The Blessing
by CharmingBiliusWeasley
Summary: Giselle Chia is fifteen, from Singapore, and living with the Dursleys for the duration of her 6- month immersion program, including the summer holidays. She meets Harry Potter and finds out just a little bit more about herself, and realises that she has something others would kill to get, and kill they will to get it.
1. The Angel's Blessing

The Blessing Chapter 1

Giselle sat on one of the seats at King's Cross Station, utterly overwhelmed by everything that was going on. A few months before, she had submitted a form to go to Britain for an immersion program. Now, here she was, with her bags neatly packed and leaning against her legs which were crossed at the ankle in the most ladylike fashion, when in fact she was not ladylike at all. Giselle, despite the extremely refined name, was loud, sarcastic, and startlingly spontaneous. The source of her grace was her dance lessons, and of course a good case of nerves which kept her constantly in a stiff and well mannered position.

Vernon Dursley was in a particularly foul mood after picking up his extremely troublesome nephew Harry Potter. "Ruddy idiot, bringing nutters with one eye to King's Cross. Think you can threaten me, eh boy? Well think again! I've got the law on my side, yes I do. You can't threaten me!" He was unaware of how loud his supposedly inaudible and incoherent grumbling was until he caught his nephew (ungrateful little thing, should have left him at the orphanage while I had the chance) staring at him with an amused expression. "What are you staring at boy? Move it!" he growled in a most irritated manner, causing the Potter boy to snicker softly.

To top it off, Mr Dursley also had to find some girl whom his family had to host for the next few months, thanks to the government thinking that he wouldn't mind taking in another child. (if she turns out to be one of his lot, I'm sending her straight back where she came from and changing the family name) Yes, he was most shaken and befuddled today, and wanted nothing better than to go back to his unobtrusive, perfectly normal house and have a perfectly normal cup of tea.

"Dursley! What a coincidence to see you today! How are the drills going, old chap?" Giselle turned around in her seat, spotting a short, slightly balding man addressing a much larger one and clapping him on the shoulder. A man who sported a moustache that reminded her very much of Adolf Hitler, and looked much like a walrus. Without the tusks, of course. Next to him was a boy about her age, with dirty, greasy blonde hair who was completely red in the face and puffing and he walked. (I suppose I'll be living with an overgrown pomegranate) On his other side was a skinny black haired boy sporting round glasses, whose clothes were much too big for him. In fact, with the way the fabric seemed overly stretched at certain areas, they looked very much like the other boy had outgrown them and passed them on to his poor skinny... Acquaintance.

Standing up and reminding herself not to cringe at the sight of her foster family, (not one female, and the only person who looked half decent also looked slightly abused) Giselle gathered her bags and walked towards the group. "Mr Dursley? I'm Giselle Chia, your err... Temporary (thank goodness) foster child"

"oh, yes you. Well, this is my son Dudley, fine young man don't you think?" Vernon Dursley announced while proudly laying a hand on his son's shoulder.

_Can he feel bone under all that?_ "yes, he's very, ah, well taken care of." she replied. _Do not make a face, do not make a face, do not make a face..._

Harry was finding the conversation between the girl and his uncle very amusing. She was trying her best to be civilised, yet showing a few signs of disdain for his cousin Diddykins. The slight grimace when introduced to Dudley, for example. His uncle, on the other hand, still believed that Dudley was an absolute angel, the perfect ladies' man, and of course mistook her grimace for a nervous smile.

"It's nice to meet you." Dudley announced in a pompous voice, puffing out his chest and trying to look impressive. While Harry snickered quietly at his futile attempts to woo Giselle.

"Pleasure." Giselle all but whimpered, taking his sweaty, pudgy hand and releasing it as quickly as possible. (the pomegranate was starting to become a walrus too, and the best one yet, if their standards are measured by how unattractive one can be) "And if I may ask, who are you?" she asked, turning to Harry.

"My name's Harry, Harry Potter. I'm Dudley's cousin."

"Really? There isn't an ounce of family resemblance"

"I noticed that long ago, and as desirable as the Dursley family features are, I much prefer to have my parents'"

"Yes, their family charm is to be rivalled by no other. Where are your parents, by the way?"

"They're um..." here he hesitated for a bit, before revealing the truth. "They're dead."

"Oh," Giselle replied, taken aback. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Come on now! I want to get back as soon as possible!" Mr Dursley butted in abruptly, effectively ending their conversation.

All through the car ride to Number Four, Privet Drive, Giselle noticed that Dudley kept sneaking glances at her through the mirror, and would shrink back towards Harry, who chuckled lightly and rubbed her arm in a comforting way.

* * *

The man with the ghostly white, snake like face stalked menacingly towards the gnarled legged, circular table. He slammed his hands onto its rough surface, the long slender fingers digging ferociously into the dark wood. The body connected to the pair of hands was much like the latter; elongated, slender and shockingly pale. An ominous, oppressive aura seemed to pulsate around him, and he knew it. In fact, he found the sight of others shrinking back from him in fear very enjoyable.

On the other side of the table, the woman who sat there with her arms crossed barely batted an eye. This, of course, vexed him to no end, a scowl appearing on his face as his voice came out in a barley audible yet intrigued whisper, cold and crystal clear, "Christiana Marion Renalds, grandniece of the seer Cassandra Trelawny."

"That is I." The woman confirmed, her rich voice full of confidence and authority, all the while staring straight at the eyes of her guest. Eyes which would make many others wish they were looking into those of a basilisk instead.

"And what is this about a prophecy that you wish to divulge to me?"

"A girl. A girl has come to England. She will be the key to Harry Potter's success, the key to your destruction. Without her, the Boy who Lived will be unable to find and destroy the secret of your half-life. However, she could also be a great weapon for you, if you know how to wield her well."

The man's eyes narrowed. He knew what it meant to live a half life, but asked the question anyway. "A half-life? How preposterous. I am fully alive and well."

"How preposterous, yes. After the many times your soul has been damaged, you still dared to drink the blood of the purest, most sacred animal that has ever existed. An animal so innocent, even its blood is silver. After all that you have done, you should be living only a small fraction of a life."

"Stop your rambling woman, I do not need your opinion on how much life I deserve. Now that you have told me all I need to know, I shall be kind enough to spare your life, for I assume you are clever enough to be on my side, no matter how much disdain you may have for me."

"I have always been, and always will be, on the side of Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. I merely wished to point out that no matter how much Cornelius Fudge is spreading propaganda against the boy, he will always have supporters, and in the case of the girl, very important ones."

Contempt rose from the depths of the man's cold heart. How dare she suggest that a boy of not even fifteen could defeat him, the most powerful dark wizard of all time? Snarling, he whipped out his wand, pointing it at Christiana Renalds' neck.

"You have told me vital information, Miss Renalds, and for that Lord Voldemort thanks you. I am not, however, thankful enough to spare your life. But first, think of this: no matter how many supporters Mr Potter will have, there will always be twice as many on my side, the winning side. Some of his followers will also turn against him eventually, and when the time comes, the girl will too. And then I shall have victory."

Then, with the cool and professional air of an experienced murderer, he uttered the killing curse, and Christiana Renalds' heart no longer had a beat. And as the eerie green light flashed in front of her, she thought only of the girl being safe from the same green light, and that her heart was good enough to stick with Potter till the end, for the one with the Angel's Blessing could do great things for the world, but only if that person was willing. Great, but possibly terrible things. Angels, too, could also have their heart of gold turn black after all.


	2. Dementors, Magic and Exploding Letters

Dementors, Magic and Exploding Letters

The first few weeks passed fairly uneventfully for Giselle. Dudley continued with his flirting, which she had gotten used to after a few days. It was, however, far from flattering. As horrible as it sounded, she had come to regard him as some sort of a cross between a walrus and a pig, and being fancied by one of those things was, well... Horrifying. She also met Dudley's mother, Petunia Dursley, who, like her husband, thought that having a girl living in the house automatically meant her "dear little Dudders" had acquired a girlfriend.

Another fact she uncovered quite soon was that Harry was not well

Iiked by his relatives. This wasn't at all shocking, considering the state of the clothes she had seen him in at King's Cross. Apparently, Harry was enrolled in a school for delinquents due to his excessive trouble making in primary school. Funny thing was, he didn't seem like a delinquent at all. In fact, he was probably the easiest to get along with in the whole house. Dudley was the one who seemed like the trouble maker, what with the friends he made and how he seemed to enjoy fighting. The boy was, however, enrolled in a much better school, Smeltings, where they had a stick as part of their uniform. Which was odd, really. Was the school promoting violence, or were all the boys overweight lumps that required assistance walking?

Giselle was, of course, enrolled in the school that was already assigned to her by her school back home. St Margaret's, an all girls school. On one hand, she was glad for the arrangement as she didn't need anyone else fancying her, nor did she need to develop feeling for anyone. On the other side of the coin, she had been in a girls school for more than two years already, and was missing the rowdiness of boys in class. At any rate, she knew it was no use contemplating whether her school's choice of school was good or not, for no amount of appealing would urge them to change their mind.

Harry also owned an owl, which, he had told her, his school allowed. How very strange, she thought, a school for wouldn't even let you take in pets, let alone owls. There is definitely something fishy going on. Her name was Hedwig, and she was a truly beautiful snowy owl. She did have a tendency to fly off frequently, sometimes for long periods of time, but for some reason Harry was never worried. He seemed to be absolutely certain no harm would befall the gorgeous bird and that she would always come back, proved to be true. After a few trips, Giselle had started to fear much less for her, owls were intelligent creatures after all.

Something good did come out of Dudley's liking of her, which she discovered a week or so after she moved in. It had (finally) come to the attention of the school that Dudley was severely overweight, and had to go on a diet during the holidays to "rectify the problem". There was, of course, a fight between the school and the Dursleys, which included quite a show of hysterics from Mrs Dursley. It was all no use, the school insisted on it, and soon everyone was roped in for "moral support".

"you will do it, won't you? For poor Diddykins?" Mrs Dursley had pleaded with her.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, course I will." Well, she decided that she couldn't turn her back on the family that had very kindly accepted her into the household, and would feel guilty and awkward eating a proper meal while everyone was having salad or something pathetic.

She could, at least, use the money her own parents had given her to buy some groceries and use the kitchen (which Harry couldn't access, poor boy. He was too skinny already) to cook up some food for the both of them. This way, they both could have a good early breakfast and late supper to keep them going. How the parents managed to keep to the diet would forever be a mystery to the pair of friends.

Harry pitched in too. Not two days after they formed their little agreement, he had received parcel after parcel of sweets, cakes and pies from his friends from school, which he happily shared with Giselle. The sweets though, were what she enjoyed the most. There were all sorts of things that she had never seen before. Liquorice Wands and Every Flavour Beans that quite literally had every flavour, including vomit, earwax, spinach and earthworm. There were also sugar quills, which she enjoyed pretending to write with immensely, and she had caught sight of something called fizzing whizbees which Harry didn't let her eat because they were expired.

The two hid their stash of food under a loose floorboard in Harry's room, where he hid many of his more treasured things, including a chess set that was his father's, and a book of his mother and father's pictures that a close friend of his parents had given him. Giselle had asked to see it, but he didn't let her. She assured him that she understood, of course he must have wanted to keep what little had of his parents to himself, not having any memories of them and all.

Harry's birthday passed just as uneventfully as any other day, as Giselle didn't notice that it was his birthday until she snuck into his room for their routine midnight snack and spotted him reading cards and letters full of his friends' well wishes. Not very long after his birthday, it happened. The event that would change her life forever.

* * *

It was about seven in the evening, just after dinner and the Dursleys (excluding Dudley, thank goodness) were preparing for the evening news. It was always the same routine, make sure they were distracted while Harry crept into his usual hiding place amongst the dying flowers so that he could listen to the news.

The plan was going very well, after weeks of practice, until the end of the show when Harry bumped his head into the ledge above the sickly sweet flowers, shocked by the loud bang that came from god-knows-where. He was promptly dragged very unceremoniously to his feet by Mr Dursley, who seemed to be choking, until the man suddenly yelped as if shocked and pulled away, leaving Harry to collapse over the flower bushes.

Mr Dursley and Harry commenced to have a very hushed argument, and Mrs Dursley soon joined in. Giselle caught something about his lot, and owls before Mr Dursley spontaneously combusted.

"we're not stupid, you know!"

"well that's news to me," Harry replied hotly, before turning around and stalking out of the garden down the road.

Giselle watched him for a moment, worry pressing down on her like a rock, before speaking up. "I- I think I'll go check on him, make sure he doesn't get in trouble with the authorities. You know how delinquents can be..." With an awkward laugh preceding an even more uncomfortable silence, she quickly exited the house and jogged out into the street. After a minute or two of aimless wandering, she spotted a familiar figure heading towards the play park.

"Harry! Harry, hold on for a minute, would you?" she caught up to him in no time, and dragged him to a street light to check the place here he hit his head.

"I'm fine, Giselle! Give it a rest, nothing's broken, I've had much worse than a little bump," Harry said as he gently pushed the fussing girl away and held her at arm's length. She searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he might be lying or in pain before running her eyes over the bruise forming on his forehead.

"alright then, a bruise isn't much I suppose. Let's take a walk, shall we?"

The pair walked in a comfortable silence to the park, and jumped over the locked gate. Rather, Harry jumped while Giselle climbed, but they both got over it in the end. She instantly ran over to the swings, sitting on one of the few that hadn't been broken by Dudley and his gang yet. Pushing the swing back and forth gently with her feet, she hummed a random tune and closed her eyes, enjoying the slight breeze that drove away the heat for a short moment.

Suddenly, she felt a pair of hands on her back and as the person gave her a hard shove, she grabbed the chains and squealed with shock at the moment the swing rose high above the ground. "Harry you git! You almost gave me a heart attack!" she shouted as the swing continued to rise higher and higher. The guilty party simply laughed in response to her squeals, ignoring her threats to murder him once she got off.

Another group of people came strolling into the park too, one of whom Giselle and Harry knew to be Dudley. "Brilliant, trust the walrus to ruin our fun," she grumbled under her breath. Harry gave a strained chuckle and stopped the swing, allowing her to slide off, and the two stood at the swings in a tense silence as the group walked away from the park. Giselle knew the rules at the Dursley's. Come home later than "popkins" and you were late. Once the gang was out of sight, they quickly made their way back, staying a safe distance away from the group yet close enough to catch up to Dudley once his friends were gone.

After exiting Magnolia Crescent, the group parted, saying something about a "nice right hook, Big D." Giselle almost snorted. He was big alright, but was a bloody coward to pick on the small children.

"Hey, Big D!" Harry shouted, causing Dudley to turn around. Harry started teasing Dudley, venting his anger and frustration on his cousin. They said something about a weapon Harry was keeping, a wand? No, she must have heard wrongly. Dudley was steadily getting angrier, and though Giselle knew that Harry was pushing his luck, she enjoyed seeing Dudley get riled up too much. It wasn't until Dudley came up with the quip about Cedric Diggory that she intervened.

Bad dreams were something that Harry seemed to have to deal with every night, and as far as Giselle knew, they were all the same, about a boy called Cedric Diggory. A boy who had died, and someone you knew dying was no laughing matter.

"Dudley, shut-" she was going to say shut up, but the words died when Harry pulled a thin stick of wood from his jeans and pointed it at Dudley's heart.

"Don't ever talk about that again," he had snarled, looking livid. "D'you understand me?"

"Point that thing somewhere else!" the excessively beefy boy was staring at the stick in fright, definitely starting to panic.

"Harry, what-" Giselle had started, before Harry cut her off.

"I said, do you understand me?"

"Point it somewhere else!" Dudley was now on the verge of screaming.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" roared Harry.

Dudley suddenly gave a loud, heaving gasp, and Giselle, thinking he was having a panic attack, put aside all confusion and shouted "Harry, STOP!" authoritatively. He looked at her, and back and the stick in his hand, his eyes widening considerably. Just as he was about to tuck it back into his jeans, Giselle felt the cold take over her, sucking the breath from her lungs and leaving her feeling drained, a sense of dread creeping up on her, slowly seeping into her veins. Her blood felt like it had run dry, and she stood rooted to the spot in fear and shock as the lights turned off, even the stars had disappeared, leaving them in complete darkness.

Then Dudley decided to find his voice, telling Harry to cut it out, threatening to tell his father. _What nonsense, it's not like he can make the stars go out and the lights all turn off._

WHAM. The sound of someone being punched rang through the darkness. Not a second later, THUD. The sound of a body hitting the floor. Boom boom boom. Heavy blundering footsteps running away, into the complete darkness.

"You moron, Dudley!" Harry shouted, scrambling to his hands and knees. At the same time, the cold seemed to intensify, making her wrap her arms around herself and clench her jaw so that her teeth wouldn't chatter.

SLAM. Right into the alley fence. stumbling footsteps, then the steady rhythm of running.

"DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!" lighter footsteps echoed behind her, and suddenly Giselle felt someone crashing into her from the back. As a short scream of terror and shock burst from her lungs, cold air rushed in, freezing the sound short.

A rattling, wheezing sound filled the air, as if an asthmatic person was taking a very deep breath. It came closer and closer, as the cold felt like it was crushing her, slowly closing in, suffocating her, turning the blood in her veins to ice.

At the same time, a small clatter of wood against cement came from somewhere on her right. Harry cursed and got off, shouting "KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!" before muttering "wand!". The slight sound of scuffling reached her, and when Harry's hand lightly brushed against her own, she held it in place and reached out to where she heard the wand fall. After groping around for a short time, her hand closed around a thin, smooth stick and she thrust it into his hand.

Harry muttered a hurried "thanks" before saying some sort of word, and light streamed out from the tip of the wand. Giselle half wished he had not done that, for the sight made her stomach drop like a rock.

Two dark, hooded figures were walking- no, gliding towards the two boys, one had its hand around Dudley's throat, and seemed to be sucking the breath right out of him. The other was about to do the same for Harry, a grey stabbed, disgusting hand reaching out toward his throat.

Giselle stayed where she was, too terrified to move or make a sound, or process what was happening. Before she knew it, a burst of silver light filled her eyes and a stag that seemed to be made of thin wisps of silvery clouds cantered forward, chasing away the figures and restoring the light and warmth.

Dudley collapsed, gasping, whimpering and shaking while Giselle steadied herself against the wall, closing her eyes against the sudden rush of blood to her head and the accompanying bout of dizziness. When she opened her eyes, Harry was facing Mrs Figgs, the old cat lady down the street with the most puzzled expression, until she instructed him to get Dudley.

It would have been a field day for the gossiping neighbours if anyone happened to be looking out their window. An old lady hobbling along the road, ranting about a "Mundungus Fletcher" and "Dumbledore", the two names Giselle heard the most. And right behind her were two children, a slim girl and a skinny boy, hunched over underneath the weight of a vastly huge boy. The girl looking like she herself was about to pass out, stumbling much more frequently than the boy and staying completely silent, not absorbing anything, while the boy was listening intently to the old lady, asking the occasional question.

After the gruelling walk home, the Giselle and Harry entered the Dursley house, nearly collapsing under Dudley's weight. Harry suddenly looked nervously up at Dudley, and mimed being sick to Giselle. They both sidestepped out from underneath him, just before he bent over and vomited. Giselle's body and mind finally allowed itself to temporarily shut down, and as much as she felt bad afterwards for not giving Harry support while he had to endure worried and overreacting parents chewing him out for saving Dudley, she simple could not hold up any longer.

An owl came in and dropped a letter, setting Mr Dursley on a rant about the pestilent birds. Harry ripped open the letter and paled as he read it, waking Giselle from her drowsy stupor.

Harry then tried to run up the stairs, but another letter came, and after reading it he walked back and explained exactly what had happened with the hooded cloak things, dementors, he had called them. They guarded the wizard prison, and would have sucked Dudley's soul out had they had the chance. He was also expelled from his school, "the madhouse"

Wizard prison... Dementors... Magic... So Harry was magic, and she had been eating magic food. How wonderful. Good to know.

Three more letters came, 2 for Harry and one for Mrs Dursley. One of the two brought good news, he was not expelled but would go for the hearing. The other one was not brought up.

Mr Dursley had then tried to chase Harry out, but when the last letter, for Mrs Dursley, had sort of exploded, and a loud voice said "remember my last, Petunia" she had convinced her husband to let Harry stay.

* * *

They next day, while the Dursleys were out, Giselle picked the lock on Harry's room and glared at him, sprawled out on his bed and staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.

"Explain. The magic, the school, the screaming letter, and the sweets you didn't let me eat. And those things with the hoods, why couldn't Dudley see them?"

"well, I'm a wizard I can do magic. It's not much to explain, I- wait, you can see the dementors?"

"yeah, can't everyone?"

"no, only witches and wizards, people who can do magic..."

"what, so now I'm magic? Come on Harry, quit joking around."

"no, I'm not joking I- I've got to write a letter, to Dumbledore. He'll know what to do about this." he started getting out of bed, reaching for his quill and parchment.

"No!" Giselle let all her frustration seep into that one word. She had come for answers, not for him to write a letter! the parchment and ink flew off the table, straight into her arms. She stared at the objects, stunned, before composing herself and saying "and have this Dumbledore person do something about what? I don't see what's wrong with me, even if I can do magic and have things fly towards me at will, there isn't much of a problem here, is there?"

"Yes, there is! You're fifteen, with no prior magical education, and you show up right when a war is about to start! If we get you a proper education, a proper environment, you could help us to defeat Voldemort, but if he gets to you... He'll have one more witch, one more follower, he'll grow stronger because we didn't do anything when we had the chance! This is serious, you've got to get to Hogwarts, see Dumbledore, I reckon he can help you catch up till the end of fourth year pretty quickly, yeah..."

"Alright, so I'm going to Hogwarts, I'm not joining Voldemort's side. Who is he anyway? You only mentioned the bit about your parents... This doesn't get you out of explaining!"

So Harry launched into a detailed explanation about magic, Quidditch, Hogwarts, the special sweets sold, how the pictures moved, Lord Voldemort rising to power, everything. And by the time he had finished, more than an hour had passed and Giselle's mind was reeling with the overload of information, as well as the fact that she might be a witch.

* * *

**A/N hey guys! Got another chapter up, hope ya like it! :) well I wasn't able to insert much humour, this bit really isn't very funny after all so yeah... And I basically copied a large chunk off the original book xD oh well, leave a review and tell me how hat you think, okay? Oh, and if there are any mistakes feel free to tell me, I finished this pretty late and didn't check it very much . Fred's coming out next chapter I think, in the Most Noble House of Black**


	3. Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place

Number 12, Grimmauld Place

The cat flap was pushed open, the disgusting leftovers only a starving person would eat stuffed through. Scrambling footsteps from the other side, and loud banging on the door. "Aunt Petunia, what was the Howler about? Who sent it? Remember his last what? Aunt Petunia!"

Petunia Dursley made no move to answer, and stared stoically at the door until a loud sigh could be heard from the other side, and the sound of bed springs squeaking, signifying that Harry Potter had flopped onto his bed in defeat. Only then did Mrs Dursley turn away and walk down the stairs, worry etched all over her long face.

This had gone on three times a day, for four days. If there was one thing Giselle truly admired about her friend Harry, it was his persistence. He never failed to ask the same thing, every time his aunt pushed the food through the flap. He was, of course, saved from eating the disgusting stuff because Giselle still managed to sneak food to him, although it was much harder because he had to be able to pass her the plates without anyone else noticing. But that's not the point.

Despite being brutally ignored all of the eleven times he had pleaded for answers, he had asked once more, bringing the number of times his questions had been left unanswered to twelve.

* * *

An hour or so later, after the Dursleys had left, Giselle quietly inched open the door and shut it quietly behind her with a plate of chicken wings, sandwiches and potatoes, as well as a cup of juice and pudding. Looking around the cramped room, she noticed that the tray his Aunt Petunia gave him was now holding empty bowls and plates.

"You're really that hungry?"

"Yes, now give me the real food would you? Soggy spinach does nothing to fill your stomach."

The food was gone in five minutes flat, and Harry lay on his bed considerably happier than he had been before the late night meal.

* * *

"Alright, now what are the properties of a mandrake?" Harry asked, with a textbook open on his lap. Dumbledore had replied to his owl, and told him that he was to brief Giselle on Hogwarts rules, and try to teach her a few things in theory. She was now starting on second year syllabus, having breezed through first year easily. With some luck, she could finish up by the end of summer and get practice in school.

"The mandrake... It's also called the mandragora, and it's a brilliant restorative. The roots, when mature, can be used to make a potion to cure anyone who's been petrified, and it's cry is fatal to anybody who hears it, except for when-"

Her monologue was interrupted by a loud crash from the kitchen. She and Harry both sat up straight, straining their ears for more sounds.

"The Dursleys?" The question came in the form of a quiet whisper, so soft that Harry had to lean forward to hear properly.

"Not likely, they can't possibly be back yet."

"Then who-"

Click.

The door had been unlocked, and was now swinging open. The two looked at each other and, reaching a silent agreement, crept out, Harry taking his wand on the way. The voices became steadily louder as they crept down the stairs, and held out his hand to stop Giselle as he rounded the corner.

"Put down your wand boy, before you take somebody's eye out." a low growl of a voice reached her ears. _Not someone I'd want to mess with,_ she thought.

"Professor Moody?"

"I don't know so much about 'Professor'," the voice growled in reply, "never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

"It's alright, Harry. We've come to take you away." This time, the owner of a much gentler and soothing voice spoke up.

"P-professor Lupin? Is that you?" His voice retained the same disbelief, but suspicion had now been replaced by a sort of joy.

"Lupin? As in your parents' friend? The werewolf?" Giselle decided that it would now be safe to make an appearance, seeing as Harry seemed to have forgotten about her, and according to him, Remus Lupin could be trusted. Walking down the last flight of steps, she got a shock as she was greeted not by two, but eight or nine faces which were now staring straight at her.

"Blimey, you could at least give a bit of prior warning. I was expecting three people at most, not ten."

"Harry, this is the witch you told Dumbledore about? The girl from Singapore?" The voice she now recognised as Lupin's asked.

"Yeah, she is. I was wondering if you could er, teach her some defence stuff? We've gotten started on second year, but having a real teacher would speed things up, and she's got to finish fourth year by the end of summer."

"Let's talk about this at headquarters shall we? And what are we doing standing around in the dark like idiots? Lumos." A young woman said the spell Giselle heard Harry say the night of the dementor attack, which she now recognised as a spell which would make light come put the tip of your wand.

The witches and wizards at the foot of the stairs then discussed Harry's looks, "just like James"

"Except the eyes, Lily's eyes"

A confirmation of identity followed (the woman who lit her wand was called Nyphadora Tonks, preferably without the 'Nymphadora'), before Moody shouted something about "better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know?" and nobody caring about basic wand safety anymore. Next was introductions, (Lupin looks much older than he should) then Mad-Eye proceeded to dump his glass eye into a glass of water to clean it. (How disgusting, this guy has minimal social skills)

Then came mode of transport. Giselle's heart dropped like a rock when brooms and flying was mentioned, for she had no clue how to fly and had a mild fear of heights.

"Remus says you're a good flier."

"He's excellent."

"And as wonderful as Harry's flying skills are, might I mention that I have none?" Giselle interrupted their discussion, her words laced with a hint of panic.

A thoughtful silence ensued, which was broken by Mad-Eye.

"Well, you're flying with Remus then. And before you request to fly with your friend Harry, he's got to be very well protected, and you riding behind him isn't going to help, so just suck it up and fly with the werewolf because he's going to be nearest to the ground."

"I really wish you would stop referring to me like that."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, they were mounting their brooms, Giselle gingerly wrapping her arms securely around Lupin's waist, muttering an awkward "sorry" while the man chuckled. Green sparks, looking much like fireworks, shot into the sky and they kicked off the ground.

Nothing in the world could have prepared Giselle for the sudden lurch of the broom, and the feeling of her stomach being left on the ground as they shot up into the night sky. She got over it quickly, and was soon enjoying the feeling of the cool air of high latitudes against her face, whipping her hair back and providing relief from the stifling hot days that plagued this year's summer.

Hours later, the novelty of flying had worn off considerably to be replaced by the wind biting her fingers and cheeks, and the soreness in her back because of her stiff posture to avoid skin contact with Lupin. And when Mad-Eye proposed doubling back...

"No! We're all half frozen already, are you mad?" her face was flushed with cold, and she had recently given up her modesty and was leaning some of her weight against Lupin, gratefully accepting the body heat radiating off his back.

"Besides, we're almost there!" Tonks protested, obviously tired out from the long flight.

"Time to start the descent!" Lupin interrupted. "Follow Tonks, Harry!"

The broom suddenly tilted downwards, causing Giselle to jerk violently, a startled gasp escaping her lips. It steadily picked up speed, until she was holding on very tightly to Lupin in fear, long past the point of screaming. Finally, it jerked to a stop, her crashing forward into Lupin as a result.

"Sorry," she muttered, climbing off the wood stiffly and rubbing her nose at the same time.

Mad-Eye took a silver lighter out of his pocket, and clicked it until all the street lights went out. He then took a piece of paper and passed it to Harry and Giselle. "Here. Read and memorise."

_The headquarters of The Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. _

She had just finished reading the words on the crumpled up paper, when there was a low rumbling sound. The houses, number eleven and number thirteen, moved to the side to reveal number twelve. It moved further forward, until it was on the same line as the houses beside it, as if it had always been there.

* * *

The first thing that greeted Giselle and Harry when they stepped into the house was a plump, middle-aged woman with flaming red hair that held strands of grey. She collected the both of them into a bone-crushing hug, and after some fussing, sent them up to their rooms.

On the way up, Giselle noticed a plethora of odd things, most disconcerting of all being heads of some sort of creature (house elves, Harry had informed her) that were stuck on wooden boards and nailed to the wall.

"And you're sure we haven't been kidnapped and taken to the headquarters of Voldemort instead?"

"Well, nobody's tried to kill me yet, so yeah."

Giselle's room was a floor above Harry's, and as she dragged her luggage up the stairs, she saw him open the door to the room he had been assigned to, and a girl's voice saying "Harry!", then a flash of curly brown hair before it closed again.

She gave another almighty heave, and finally managed to get everything up. The door was kicked open, and as she walked in the past grandeur of the bedroom (and house in general) was slowly exposed to her.

The walls had been painted a light grey, elaborate patterns twisting up the sides. A cupboard sat in a corner, intricate designs carved into the mahogany wood, a chest of drawers next to it, with handles that seemed to be made of real silver. In the middle, a large four poster bed stood out majestically against the dull surroundings. It's drapes were made of sapphire blue and gold fabric which was probably enchanted, seeing as the colour of the cloth remained vibrant while the rest of the room had seemed to fade.

Just as she was running her hand along the cool cloth which felt luxuriously like silk, Harry's furious shouts drifted up through the floor.

"'SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS' FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT - WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?"

Having been interrupted from revelling in the luxury of the room, however sinister it seemed, Giselle felt a twinge of annoyance prick at her from Harry's untimely interruption.

"WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!"

_How interesting, so that's what he did last year..._ She thought as she opened the door to the room, on her way to go down and tell him to shut up before he woke the whole house up.

"BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING?"

_Oh just shut up, Harry, and stop having a fit._

Stepping out past the door, she slammed into the chest of a very tall boy and stumbling backwards, only to be caught around the waist and set upright by him.

"Careful there! Can't have you making noise while we're eavesdropping, can we?"

Giselle raised her eyes to meet the owner of the boy, a flush rising up her face. She was met by a slightly tanned, freckled face and chocolate brown eyes which held a mischievous glint and a large, friendly grin, topped by a head of vividly red hair. She then realised that there were two of such faces, and rubbed her eyes.

"CAN'T'VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR -"

_And who was it that adored Dumbledore so much?_

After reopening them, she realised that there were still two identical faces, and blinked in confusion, shaking her head slightly.

"No, you're not going mad, we're twins!" the boy who she crashed into said.

"I'm Fred, the better looking one-" his twin said,

"and I'm George," the first twin interrupted, "sorry Fred, but I'M the better looking twin."

"FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT'S BEEN GOING ON - "

"Harry's having a right nasty hissy fit, isn't he?" George commented casually.

"I SUPPOSE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU, ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER - "

"Yeah, he is," Fred replied, in the same cool tone of voice, before turning to Giselle. "By the way, who are you and why are you here?"

"I'm Giselle, and I'm here because I'm a newly discovered witch and Harry figured it would be better for me to come here rather than run around and wait for Voldemort to find me."

* * *

Fred had been absolutely captivated by the girl. She had walked out of her room, annoyance etched clearly on her face, and slammed right into George, which sent her stumbling backwards before his dear twin had caught her in an act of chivalry (or flirtation) and set her back up on her feet.

The alarm that crossed her dark brown eyes when she noticed there were two of them was, to him, adorable. The way her nose scrunched up slightly when she blinked, endearing. Her seemingly black hair which turned a golden brown when it caught the light as it shook with her head was mesmerising. And the cheeky smirk that slightly lifted the corner of her lips also hinted at a playful disposition.

There was also the way she spoke, confident and clear, with a touch of humour and an underlying hint of wit. Not to mention how she looked when she drew herself up to her full height, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders. In that moment, she had suddenly seemed so much taller, full the brim with hidden grace.

She was attractive, not just pretty, there was no denying it. The fact was that this pretty girl had very effectively, yet unintentionally, snared the affection of Frederick Gideon Weasley. And, he being Frederick Gideon Weasley, was determined to get her affections in return.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Hi! Yes, another upload, yet again at a very ungodly time. I'm pretty sure this isn't good for your body clock, but oh well. As you may or may not have noticed, some of Giselle's thoughts are in brackets, some are in italics. Well, I don't really know what's the difference, but I sort of sense a difference between the two types of thoughts so sorry if I caused any confusion! What do you think of the last bit though? Bit too cheesy? I haven't exactly written anything related to romance before, so forgive me if it's not well done.**

**And I also just realised that Fred's middle name is Gideon, not Joseph. I think. A little help? Eheh.**

**By the way... REVIEW PEOPLE. Please and thank you :)**


	4. Your Brother What?

Your Brother What?

There was relative silence for a minute, as Harry's shouting died down. The twins, deciding that it was safe for them to shatter the peace, exchanged a look and nodded. Fred offered Giselle his arm in a very stiff manner, making it very easy for her to imagine him with a monocle and a moustache.

"If you would take my arm, my lady?" he said in an exaggerated and pompous British accent.

"Why of course, kind sir," she replied in an equally pompous tone, placing a hand on his arm much too daintily than necessary.

Skin contact was established, causing her to she blush slightly and cast a shy glance at the (handsome) boy. At the same time, he looked down at her, his chocolate brown eyes meeting her much darker brown ones. Once the eye contact was established, Giselle felt as if she was slowly getting sucked into the warm depths of his eyes, as the playfulness slowly faded, replaced by a smouldering emotion she couldn't quite name. Her heart rate increased considerably, and all she could see was Fred's hypnotising gaze, until George obnoxiously cleared his throat, bringing them both out of their daze.

"If you two lovebirds are finished, we have a Potter and Friends meeting to crash."

"Shut up George," Giselle muttered, looking anywhere but Fred. She felt the heat steadily rise to her cheeks and tilted her head slightly forward, using her hair to shield the pinkish hue forming.

"Giselle, you should get a tighter grip on me, because I'm not keen on you getting splinched," Fred instructed.

"Splinched? What do you-"

"Just hold on tight, okay?" He hurriedly said, turning away from her, leaving her feeling a little hurt. _It's just the awkward situation from before, he isn't really annoyed... Is he?_

* * *

When Fred had turned his face away from Giselle, his twin caught his eye and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Yes, Fred would admit he had gotten slightly caught up in her eyes, but wasn't that a natural reaction? No? Oh whatever, so he had a small crush. Well, the girl was pretty! And it wasn't like she was some air-headed idiot, he hadn't spent five minutes with her and could tell she had a good set of brains in her head, and also a sense of humour.

So he'd gotten a tad bit flustered by how nice the faint pink blush looked on her skin that was very nicely tanned, but so what? It looked nice on her, didn't all guys get flustered when a pretty girl blushed at them? (he wasn't going to think she had blushed FOR him, as much as he'd like to) He thought back to the moment not very long ago, when he was determined to gain her affections, considering she had already stolen his. Well, that went down the drain. Who would've guessed that he could melt with just a look?

He felt her hand tighten slightly around his arm, and placed his free hand over hers, just to make sure it didn't slip out. Or maybe he just wanted to indirectly hold her hand.

"Ready, Fred?" George asked as he smirked at his twin's obvious attempts to get closer to Giselle.

"Ready, George." The twin under scrutiny answered with a meaningful stare. They both understood what it meant, and they most certainly would talk about it in their room.

* * *

Before she could register what was happening, the twins had turned on the spot, and Giselle would have screamed from the sudden darkness that muffled her senses, if not for the sensation of being squeezed through an already tight but rapidly constricting tube, causing the breath to catch in her throat. Luckily, this didn't last for much longer than a second, and they ended up in a brightly lit room, met by a shriek and a breathy protest of "stop doing that!"

Suddenly overcome by a wave of nausea, Giselle felt the familiar sensation of dizziness accompanied by black spots obscuring her vision. She found that she couldn't stay on her feet properly, and fell onto Fred, who then caught her and sat on a bed, pulling her up on his lap.

"Sorry bout that," she whispered, a flush making its way up her cheeks yet again. _What is wrong with me, I never blush!_

"It's alright, apparation leaves everyone a little queasy the first few times."

She made a move to get up, but Fred's arms wrapped tighter around her waist, murmuring "stay here, don't want you falling over again, do we?" and chuckling as her blush became more pronounced at his words.

"Hello Harry," George announced obnoxiously, beaming all the while. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones."

"You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out," said Fred, with the exact same expression as George. "There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you."

"I see you passed your apparation tests, then?" Harry grumbled, obviously disgruntled by the sudden disturbance.

"Whatever that is, remind me to never take it." Giselle managed to groan, not quite over the nausea.

"You'll want to take it, it's one of the most useful skills a witch or wizard could have," Fred told her, chuckling as he pulled her closer. "Lots of advantages, like-"

"Decreasing travel time-"

"Getting out of a sticky situation quickly-"

"Sleeping in while everyone's WALKING to a portkey-"

"And startling unsuspecting victims, as you just witnessed," they finished together, grinning identical Cheshire cat grins.

"To answer Harry's question, we did pass it-" George started.

"With distinction," Fred proudly gloated, the grins never leaving their faces.

"It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs," said a tall, lanky red head, whom Giselle assumed to be Ron.

"Time is Galleons, little brother," said Fred. 'Anyway, Harry, you're interfering with reception. Extendable Ears,' he added in response to Harry's questioning stare, and held up the flesh coloured string he had been carrying, which Giselle noticed was trailing out to the landing. "We're trying to hear what's going on downstairs."

"You want to be careful with that, if mum sees one of them, again..." Ron said, staring cautiously at the ear. Giselle had heard quite a bit about the twins from Harry, and had a good idea of what their mother would do if she saw it.

"Its worth the risk, that's a major meeting they're having."

The room door swung open, and a girl with hair that looked like a waterfall of lava stuck her head through, saying "Oh, hello, Harry!" very cheerfully. Not that anyone (except maybe Harry) didn't notice how she obviously liked him. "I thought I heard your voice."

She then turned to Fred and George, looking shocked when she saw Giselle resting very comfortably on Fred's lap. "Since when did you have a girlfriend, Fred?" This, of course, made Giselle jump from her seat and face the girl, feeling completely embarrassed.

"I'm not- He's not- We're not together, he's just, well, he... I fell, you see, apparating with him, and he sort of, caught me?" she stuttered, sounding more like she was asking a question than providing an explanation, her face panicked and turning redder by the second.

"Yes, I'm sure he did," the girl smirked. "I'm Ginny, by the way. Ginny Weasley, as you might have guessed."

"Giselle Chia, pleased to meet you Ginny," said the older girl, feeling more comfortable once the awkward moment had passed.

"Oh, and Fred, George, it's a no-go with the Ears, she's put an Imperturbable Charm on the door."

"How d'you know?" a crestfallen George asked.

"Tonks told me how to find out," Ginny replied. "You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can't make contact the door's been Imperturbed. I've been flicking Dungbombs at it from the top of the stairs and they just soar away from it, so there's no way the Extendable Ears will be able to get under the gap."

Fred sighed, looking like a balloon which had lost a considerable amount of air. "Shame," he said sadly. "I really fancied finding out what old Snape's been up to."

"Snape! Is he here?" Harry asked sharply.

"Yeah"' said George, closing the door slowly and sitting down next to Fred and Ginny. "Giving a report. Top secret."

"Git," Fred commented, lazily pulling Giselle back onto his lap by the waist and earning a mouse-like squeak from her, as well as the raised eyebrows from the rest of the room. "What?" he said defensively. "She's makes a really good leg-warmer. Huggable too, this one."

Giselle snorted, and said, "good to know how much I mean to you, Freddie," sarcasm dripping off each word. "And isn't Snape your potions master? What's he like?" she asked.

The second her question was asked, everyone went into a babble of descriptions that summed up Severus Snape. She caught quite a few phrases, mainly "hasn't washed his hair in years, I bet", "so obviously favours the Slytherins, dunno WHY Dumbledore keeps him", "looks like a right old bat, what with his cloak flapping around all the time", "called Hermione an insufferable know-it-all! Can you believe it?" and "The way he talks to us, it's like we're five year olds!" everyone seemed eager to share their less than friendly opinions of Snape, except for Hermione, who had an amused yet disapproving expression plastered on her face.

After a minute or two, the room finally fell silent, all of the inhabitants staring intently at Giselle, waiting for her verdict. She scanned everyone's faces once, then remarked "he sounds just like my Chinese teacher from a few years back," thoughtfully. A second of silence, before she proceeded with her next sentence. "Nobody liked him, slimy git." Cheers and laughter erupted in the room, until Hermione cut in.

"He's on our side now," she said reprovingly.

"Doesn't stop him being a git. The way he looks at us when he sees us." Ron retorted with a snort.

"Bill doesn't like him either," Ginny said, with an air of finality as of she felt that concluded the matter.

"Bill's here? I thought he was working in Egypt?" Harry asked. Giselle heard the undercurrent of impatience in his voice, but didn't say much about it. His curiosity obviously overruled the urge to have another fit.

"He applied for a desk job so he could come home and work for the Order," Fred explained. "He says he misses the tombs, but," here he paused, and giselle could hear the soft snort and was almost positive he was smirking. "There are compensations."

"What d'you mean?"

"Remember old Fleur Delacour?" George asked rhetorically, "she's got a job at Gringotts to eemprove 'er eenglish-"

"And Bill's been giving her lots of private lessons," Fred finished, sniggering.

"Isn't Bill about 7 years older than Fleur?" Giselle asked.

"Yeah, what about it?" Ginny and Fred said simultaneously, both glaring at her.

"Nothing, I'm just keeping track of everyone. There's so many people in this family, I'm getting a little lost."

"Don't see what that's got to do with their age gap," Fred snapped.

"Frankly, I don't either. Things like that just pop into my head at the weirdest times. My mind works in mysterious ways."

Giselle noticed that the Weasley clan was still glaring suspiciously at her, so she put her hands up in surrender. "I'm not judging your brother or Fleur, at all! If I every say anything that sounds like I disapprove of them, you all can hex me, alright? Hang it all, I'll hex myself!"

Finally satisfied, the Weasleys relaxed considerably, the atmosphere lightening more quickly than Giselle ever thought possible.

"Charlie's in the Order, too," said George, breaking the silence, "but he's still in Romania. Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie's trying to make contacts on his days off."

"Couldn't Percy do that?" Harry asked.

At this point, Giselle's head was swimming. There were far too many names popping up much too fast, making it impossible for her to follow the conversation properly. She mentally sorted out the names and identities of each person Harry had told her about so far, starting with the Weasleys and Hermione, only half listening to the conversation about Percy. She stayed out of it, only getting the gist of what was said (a skill learnt from her education in Singapore, which enabled students to rush last minute homework in class without missing much of what the teacher said) until Ron mentioned Percy blaming their father for their financial status.

"WHAT?!" She and Harry said in disbelief. The others were surprised at her reaction, since it seemed that she wasn't paying much attention at all, yet had a much larger (louder) reaction than Harry. She flushed in embarrassment and started fiddling with a bit of loose thread that was hanging on her shirt. There was a minute of silence, in which she ignored the expectant stares of the family. After the silence had hung in the air to the point where it was unbearable, she made a gesture for them to go on, which Ron obliged to.

"Yeah, a-and it got worse. He said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he - Percy - knew where his loyalty lay and it was with the Ministry. And if Mum and Dad were going to become traitors to the Ministry he was going to make sure everyone knew he didn't belong to our family any more. And he packed his bags the same night and left. He's living here in London now."

The thread broke in Giselle's hands while Harry swore very colourfully under his breath. She had heard about Percy, and thought him quite funny. Pompous and stuck up, yes, but funny, albeit not purposely so. But definitely not the type to walk out on his family because of what his boss thought.

"Mum's been in a right state," Ron continued glumly. 'You know - crying and stuff. She came up to London to try and talk to Percy but he slammed the door in her face. I dunno what he does if he meets Dad at work - ignores him, I s'pose."

"That's absolutely horrible! How could he just walk out on his family like that? Your parents RAISED him, for heaven's sake, and he just- he can't just- I'm sorry Ron, but your brother's a right git and if I ever see him he's going back to the ministry with bruises and a broken nose."

Everyone was now in shock at Giselle's outburst. She was on her feet, having wrenched herself out of Fred's arms with surprising strength, and was making extremely violent gestures, one of which almost smacked Harry square in the face.

Not even a blind person could miss the anger and outrage in her eyes, which were positively burning a hole right through Ron, who was gaping up at her in shock and fear.

"Giselle, calm down now, let's not give Ickle Ronniekins a heart attack," Fred said soothingly, grabbing one of her hands and pulling it gently. In response, she whirled around to face him, freeing her hand in the process. Now that he was the victim of her glare, he couldn't quite blame Ron for looking scared. She looked just like their mother at that point, maybe more frightening since she was taller and not as kind-looking, thanks to her dark hair and eyes. _Giselle could give mum a run for her money, she's right terrifying when she wants to be,_ he thought, recoiling slightly in shock.

"NO, Fred Weasley, I will NOT calm down!" she screeched. "What Percy did is WORSE than my brother-" There she stopped abruptly, straightening up and swallowing the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat whenever she thought of that incident, or her family's situation in general.

"Your brother what?" Fred prodded gently, half expecting another outburst. Ginny smacked him on the back of his head, hoping fervently that Giselle wouldn't start shouting again.

"My brother nothing." She replied coldly. Her molten brown eyes that were flashing dangerously with anger a second ago had turned steely. She took a deep breath, then lifted her chin and relaxed her shoulders, looking dangerously graceful, like the antagonist in a ballet.

A second passed, everyone's eyes were trained on her, waiting with bated breath to see what she would do next. She raised her hand, and Fred recoiled, expecting a slap, but she simply ran it through her hair. Heaving a deep sigh, she turned sharply on her heel, pulled the door open and stalked out of the room.

* * *

Giselle's sudden outburst of shouting left everyone in shock, especially Harry. He knew that there was much more to the girl that met the eye, but he definitely wasn't expecting her to match Mrs Weasley when it came to fits of angry yelling.

A stunned silence reigned for a while, before Hermione and Ron picked up the pieces of the shaky conversation. Fred, on the other hand, stayed thoughtfully muted. _She's definitely got problems within her family, and they're obviously eating her up inside... I've got to find out what's going on, or she's going to go loonier than Aunt Muriel._ He spent the rest of the time in that room devising plans on how to get her to open up, without blowing up, and hopefully without waterworks as well.

Footsteps sounded outside, sending the twins into a slight panic. They gave the ear a tug and had barely hidden it properly before the door opened again, Mrs Weasley coming in.

"The meeting's over, you can come down and have dinner now. Everyone's dying to see you, Harry. And who's left all those Dungbombs outside the kitchen door?"

"Crookshanks," Ginny lied without missing a beat. "He loves playing with them."

"Oh, I thought it might have been Kreacher, he keeps doing odd things like that. Now don't forget to keep your voices down in the hall. Ginny, your hands are filthy, what have you been doing? Go and wash them before dinner, please. And Fred, George, do get cleaned up. Oh, and get Giselle while you're at it, would you, her room's right across yours."

"Yes, mum," the three of them chorused mechanically, Ginny trudging out of the room while Fred and George apparated to theirs. Fred changed his shirt, which was dirty from crawling under the bed to get to the box of Ears they saved, and quickly ran a comb through his hair before going over to Giselle's. He knocked on the door, and was very warmly welcomed by her shout of "go away!"

"Alright, I'm coming in!" He announced with a grin, when on the inside he felt like whimpering "okay!" and running for his life.

Trying the door, he realised it was locked, and smirked to himself. _That's not going to keep anyone out, even a muggle can pick a lock._ He took out his wand and muttered "alohomora", then pushed the door open.

"I thought I told you to go away," she snarled, slamming the lid of her trunk shut but keeping her back to him.

"I also remember saying that I would come in," he retorted, his smirk quailing slightly under her icy tone.

"Well, now that you've come in, get out." The last two words were punctuated by her whirling around to face him, which gave him a shock for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that night. Her eyes were glistening slightly, her annoyance at him only thinly veiling the sadness they held. The whites of her eyes had also turned slightly bloodshot, her cheeks flushed an angry pink.

Fred's expression softened, and he felt a twinge when he saw a tear escape her eyes and roll down her cheeks. She turned away again, quickly wiping it away and opening the cupboard aimlessly, poking through every nook and cranny and ignoring him in general.

Of course, the Fred Weasley would never let anyone ignore him, so he quietly strode up to her and pulled her around to face him. He didn't know what he was expecting. A smack across the face maybe, but most definitely not what was right in front of him. Tears were cascading down from her eyes, and she wasn't even bothering to try to mask her anguish. Thinking fast, (or not thinking at all) he gently wrapped his arms around her and held her close, allowing her to sob silently into his chest. After a minute of stroking her hair and murmuring soothing words into her ear, she pulled away, but kept her head down.

"Thanks, and I'm sorry about your shirt," she mumbled.

"It's alright, and mum says the meeting's over and to get ready for dinner."

Giselle nodded in response.

"Are you- you'll be okay?"

"I'm not going to start crying again, if that's what you mean."

"Not exactly, but it's good enough."

"Good, I'll meet you downstairs in five minutes."

**A/N: YAY I finally got over my puking fit and writing again. Yes, you read correctly, puking fit. I have no idea what I ate, but I've thrown up at least 10 times yesterday. On to less foul-smelling topic, what do you think? Reviews anyone? :P oh, and huge thank yous to everyone who favourited or followed or whatevered this story, you guys are awesome, I LOVE YOU! Especially since I haven't been writing very much, the bulk of my "creations" have been for school. Anyway, getting so many supporters has been a huge encouragement. So, I'll be doing my best to get over physical and emotional exhaustion tomorrow to write (or start writing) another chapter. **

**Tomorrow will be a huge day for me, so if you get a chap chap that means it didn't go well, and if you get a funny or light hearted one I guess I made it into the dance! And again... REVIEWS PLEASE! And thank you :)**


	5. Unexpected Hugs

Unexpected Hugs

Cold water, a change of clothes and precisely five minutes later, Giselle exited her room- without colliding into someone- and descended the stairs noiselessly, taking in the surroundings. Silvery grey walls, lamps (probably made of pure silver) adorned with the Black family crest protruding from them at regular intervals. The fires made temperatures in the corridor skyrocket. It was at moments like these that Giselle wished the family was a little more modern, surely wizards had a form of light that didn't come from fire? She passed the decapitated house-elves, shuddering at their glassy eyes and the elf-scowls that seemed forever imprinted on their snouts, even in death. _What a nice destiny for your head..._

She moved on, feeling goose bumps rise to her skin. A few steps later, she heard a loud crash and a familiar voice apologising profusely. Rather, the voice was PROBABLY apologising profusely for the owner hadn't gotten past "oh, I'm so sorry, Molly!" before another voice filled the house.

It was like nothing that Giselle had ever heard before, and she had heard a great variety of voices. From her sister's soothing croon, the only thing that could calm her when she was riled up, to her teacher's fairly comical, high pitched exclamations of "good grief!", to her pastor's deep, reassuring baritone.

Of all the different voices she had heard in her fifteen years of life, nothing could possibly compare to this hair raising screech that resembled the sound of nails on a blackboard, just countless times worse. It might also provoke a male banshee (if there were such things) to call back, hoping for a romantic rendezvous.

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers - " it screeched in outrage, making Giselle wonder what the person did to make sure she didn't lose her voice for the next round of screaming.

Not long after obtaining a slight headache, the source of the noise became apparent. It was a portrait. A portrait of a very wrinkly old woman who sported a severe bun, which was coming slightly loose. She was very pale. Not fair, pale. Extremely disturbingly so. It was much like the pallor of a very sick person, though it was obvious from her passionate rant that she was not ill. Giselle also found it very easy to picture froth coming out of her mouth, and spraying everyone in the vicinity with saliva if she were alive and standing before them.

The portrait had an audience of Mrs Weasley and Lupin, who were frantically trying to close the curtains that hung on it, Tonks, who was wringing her hands and (as Giselle assumed, for all other sound was drowned by the portrait) apologising, as well as a shell shocked Harry.

A man with shoulder length black hair ran up to the portrait, shouting "SHUT UP, YOU HORRIBLE OLD HAG, SHUT UP!", which caused it to erupt into a different speech.

"YOUUUUUU!" the woman screeched, her eyes on the verge of dropping out of their sockets. "Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"

Finally unable to stand anymore of the noise, Giselle jumped the last few steps and barged into the face of the old woman, delivering a long, drawn out, very loud and high pitched scream of "AHHH!"

She screamed for a good 10 seconds, and when she stopped, there was complete silence, save a slight ring in the air from the past shouting match. She stood there, panting slightly, while everyone else stared in shock. The woman in the portrait had been stunned into opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish, also keeping as quiet as one.

"I'm glad we understand each other's intentions, ma'am," Giselle said with a sweet yet sarcastic smile, then grabbing both sides of the curtain and pulling them shut before the banshee could start again.

A person's applause brought her attention to the man standing behind her, who was clapping lazily at her performance and wearing an amused grin. The smile, and hands, however, dropped after getting a good look at her face. His slight laughter ceased, and his mouth simply hung open in shock.

"Odette?" he asked, disbelief apparent in his voice.

"No, that's my sister. I'm Giselle," she replied, before asking, utterly perplexed, "how do you know my sister?"

* * *

The moment the girl very efficiently shut his mother up, Sirius knew that she was not a force to be reckoned with. He was also starting to like her very much. Anyone who could shut that blasted woman up was a friend of his. He was not, however, expecting the painfully familiar face that greeted him.

Memories started to flood back, memories of the Chia family, two of his best friends being brutally murdered months after their second child was born. The first had been ten at the time, and needless to say, she was traumatised. Ten was a particularly painful age to be orphaned, old enough to have memories of your dead parents, to actually get to know them, but still too young to handle having the two most important people in your life ripped away with a spell.

He had found the two girls in a closet not long after the attack. The older one was crying silently, clutching her baby sister tightly, who was asleep and blissfully oblivious to the world around her.

They were taken to headquarters, put under "Order custody", as James called it, until Sirius had convinced Dumbledore to give the young girls to him. Remus was out of the question, and James and Lily were expecting a child of their own soon and would not be able to take care of the baby, Peter was simply... Not considered, thank god for that, which left Sirius.

During the one and a half years he acted as their father, he realised how much the death of Christopher and Elizabeth Chia had affected their older daughter. She moped around the house, only responding to her sister, and cried almost every night. Finally, after two or three months, she started to smile again. The baby must have sensed her sister's change in mood, for she also became happier, wails being replaced by gurgles, coos and babyish nonsense. However, he could tell the girl was not quite the same. She had become much more mature, now painfully aware of the fragility of life.

Despite this, the house was now filled with laughs and smiles, and the baby had also taken to calling him "Da Da", which was came as a brilliant surprise to him, but a night of sulking and crying for her sister.

Then came that Halloween night. When Sirius got wind of James and Lily's deaths, he had rushed to the scene to find their house in ruins, save for the nursery, where Harry was wailing in Hagrid's arms. After soothing his godson, he took off after Peter, and when that backfired he was sent to Azkaban.

While rotting in that disgusting cell for twelve years, he had all the time in the world, it seemed, to imagine what horrible fates befell the two girls under his care, courtesy of the dementors. The guilt was eating him up inside, especially when he couldn't find them after his escape.

Now, with the baby that had once called him "Da Da" standing before him as a young woman with a wicked set of lungs, he couldn't quite fight the emotion that was manifesting in the form of a thick lump in his throat.

"It's a long story," he said in reply to her question. "You could say I was a family friend. I knew you too, you know, when you were just a baby. Look how much you've grown, you look beautiful, just like your sister," smiling gently when he noticed the blush blooming on her cheeks.

Suddenly, he found himself gathering her in his arms and holding her tight, his insides turning into mush with relief, whispering "I'm so glad you're okay".

* * *

Though shocked by the man's sudden movements, Giselle welcomed the hug. It was nothing like the one her father had given her the year before when she went on a school trip to Beijing. It was sort of forced, in a way, and strange since her father hadn't attempted to show signs of affection after the incident. Of course, she couldn't push him away, and didn't have the excuse that he had just come home from a run and was all sweaty.

She did not try to deny that she enjoyed it, being Daddy's Little Girl again, even for just a few seconds, was nice. Especially since Daddy hadn't been around much lately, and she felt more and more like she was being forced to stand even though she was completely tired out, as if she were balanced precariously on a log on the middle of the Amazon, and one wrong move would send her to her death.

That day, when rest was provided she welcomed it with (literally) open arms. A chance to be able to sit and rest had been long overdue, and even though the feeling of being protected and loved was brief, it had provided her with some sort of relief.

After a year, Giselle found herself once again in an unexpected fatherly hug, yet this time it was so different. It was the same feeling of reconciliation, yet this felt so much more permanent, much more secure. With her father, it was like the log she was standing on hit a sort of island in the middle of the river, so she could just collapse for a while, until the force of the water got it moving again. With this man, she had been spotted by a passing boat and was fished out, now on the way home.

This time round, the hug felt right, and she found herself hugging back just as tightly, not because of her friends watching, not because of her desperate need of this temporary rest, but simply because she felt safe, and at home.

**A/N: Finally managed to update this, I am so sorry it took half a lifetime but trying to write while a vicious spider that looks like Aragog reincarnated into a smaller him is... Hard. Anyway, I know this is short but I've got another chapter right round the corner. No really, I wrote it right after this. And I would have posted the two after I finished, but I needed a friend's opinion and SHE WASN'T ONLINE AT THAT FAIRLY GODLY HOUR. *glares* **

**So, what do you guys think? The family problems thing coming on too fast? You know you could just write your opinions in the review, right? I don't mind you saying I should throw my pens away and stick to dancing if you just tell me whyyyy I suck :) although compliments are much appreciated, thanks ^^**


	6. Interrogation

Interrogation

So, turns out the portrait was the man's (now known as Sirius) mother. How a horrible woman like that could have given birth to someone like him was a mystery to Giselle, all she could do was thank the lord he turned out good. She also noticed he seemed rather bitter about something, and like the typical teenager with an overdose of curiosity, she took it upon herself to find out what it was and, hopefully, give some comfort, since Harry had only managed an awkward scratch of the neck. _Idiot_.

Dinner was eventful, to say the least. She had helped Mrs Weasley cook, The older woman objecting to some of her suggestions which were highly revered by the Chinese cooking community, and her insistence to "Asia things up a bit". They finally reached an agreement on some sort of game, that whatever they wanted to add whole the other's back was turned which would not ruin the whole dish would be added.

Both females were very skilled at multitasking, though Giselle had learned through schoolwork rather than cooking, so in the end dinner turned out to be western style with a tinge of Chinese tastes. Not that it wasn't good, in fact Fred and George had requested for more "kitchen battles" to take place.

Of course, the twins had to be valiant show-offs and levitate the food to the table, resulting in half the soup spilled and Sirius almost being stabbed in the hand. The mishap was laughed off, though not before Mrs Weasley had given the twins an earful. Of course, it simply would not do to have the twins rewarded for their efforts, and the "brothers" speech started up, until she got to Percy. Giselle now took it upon herself to break the ice, and rubbed Mrs Weasley's shoulders bracingly.

"Don't worry about it, Mrs Weasley, from what I've heard Percy's got a load more brains than my brother, and he came around in the end. It'll be fine, in fact he might be considering coming back for Christmas," she said, offering a small smile. This, however, was a blatant lie. Her brother had been battling the Cold War with her parents for two or three years, and was nowhere near to coming around. The lie wasn't just for Mrs Weasley's benefit, Giselle wanted to believe it too.

The food was, as earlier mentioned, fantastic, but the post-dinner conversations were the highlight of the night. If you didn't count the small food fight between Fred, George and Ron. _Oh, the things a pea up the nose can do..._

* * *

Not long after the food was cleared, Sirius had taken it upon himself to strike up conversation with Giselle.

"So, er - how are you? You know, coping. With the magic, and all," he asked, awkwardly grinning and ruffling his hair. _Really, Padfoot? You've changed this girl's diapers and that's the best you can do? She thought you were her dad at some point, mate, man up! James would be rolling off his chair in hysterics if he were here._

"Honestly, I feel like I'm completely over my head. One day I'm a perfectly normal kid, the next I'm a witch, then I'm flown here on a broom that I may have used to sweep the floor, and all of a sudden pots are levitating, food is stirring itself, and I'm having a cooking war against Molly Weasley."

"It could be worse, you haven't met Dumbledore yet."

"I look forward to it," Giselle drawled, rolling her eyes at the same time. Sirius chuckled quietly. Odette had never been as sassy, she was always the calmer one. Not saying she didn't show her displeasure, but she showed it much less blatantly than her sister did.

"Sirius, did you know my parents?" Giselle's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Yeah, course I did, how'd you think I got to know you?" he answered, before suddenly remembering that the parents she referred to were not his friends, but were the distant relatives of Christopher. He had seen the couple though, they were very loving, provided a perfect environment for the girls to grow up in.

"How were they like back then?"

"Almost exactly like Arthur and Molly," he replied, chuckling at the memories and not noticing the shock on Giselle's face. "I swear they acted like teenagers sometimes, holding hands, going on moonlight walks, whispering, laughing, bickering. Oh, and snogging. At the table. Always wondered how they dared to do that with your sis and two brothers around -"

"Well I'm glad I've never been able to witness that," Giselle muttered with a breathy laugh.

"What, they haven't kept up with tradition? They snogged in front of two boys, what's one more girl going to do? They haven't - they haven't fallen out, have they? Those two were inseparable. What happened to your parents, Giselle?" Sirius asked, his tone changing rapidly from amusement to puzzlement, then to worry.

"Oh, would you look at the time!" she exclaimed with an airy laugh. "You might want to talk to Harry, Sirius, I'm sure he missed you. Besides, I think the twins just called me over - I'm coming, guys! - well, bye then!" following the awkward and frantic self-excuse, she all but leapt out of her chair and dashed off to where the ginger twins were sitting, playing Exploding Snap.

Sirius was simply left there, catching flies with his mouth and staring after her. He was only shaken out of it when Tonks walked past and pushed his lower jaw up to meet his front teeth, and smirking slightly when she saw him shake his head like a dog.

* * *

Meanwhile, a very unnerved Giselle had quite literally skipped over to the twins and burrowed in between them, slinging her arms around their shoulders.

"Hi guys! Miss me?" she said too cheerily, with a huge fake smile plastered on her face. In reality, she was very shaken up with how easily Sirius had caught on that there were problems within the house, and how much less cautious she was, how much looser her mouth seemed to be.

"Fred definitely did," George replied with a smirk, obtaining a glare from the twin in question and a roll of the eyes coupled with a slight blush from Giselle.

"Aw, Freddie, you should have just said so!" she cooed, deciding to play along.

"Yeah, well I figured you probably preferred to talk to THAT OLD MAN," he replied, pulling her onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I HEARD THAT, WEASLEY!" Sirius growled in mock anger.

"Which one?" the five redheads shot back simultaneously.

Giselle giggled at the siblings' display of family telepathy, and the deck of Exploding Snap cards chose that moment to explode. She jerked up in surprise, and hit Fred's nose, earning her a loud "ow!"

"Awww, did Ickle Freddiekins get a boo-boo?" she cooed in a fake babyish voice.

Fred pouted and nodded in reply, acting the part impeccably.

"Does Wittle Fweddie need me to kiss it better?" she said, her large eyes widening 'innocently'.

Another 'pitiful' nod.

Giselle laughed, slightly taken aback. She hadn't expected him to actually agree. Although she did dig her own grave with that one, but what else did kids expect? And since they were acting as kids...

She closed the distance between their faces and gave him a light peck on the tip on his nose. This was met by cheering and catcalls from George and Ginny, a huge blush from Giselle and a goofy grin from Fred.

"Thanks, Gis, the boo-boo's all better now," he whispered in her ear and sending a small shiver through her slim frame. He then kissed her cheek, very near the mouth, before pulling the stunned girl beside him and wrapping an arm around her waist.

* * *

What exactly possessed him to kiss the girl on the cheek, Fred didn't know. All he knew was that she had just turned such an adorable shade of pink that he couldn't resist. However, he knew it could still be seen as childish playing, though he was pretty sure dropping the child-like tone before the kiss wasn't very wise.

Frankly, he was glad the whole thing was overlooked, he knew had a crush, and didn't need that oaf of a twin George to tell him, especially not in that horrible sing-song voice they both adopted when they teased each other.

* * *

The next few hours passed quickly. It consisted mainly of filling Giselle in on a few details of life she missed, like cleaning out the house and their never ending mission to prank Mad-Eye. She contributed to some plans, and much of the time was spent on playful banter and telling them about some aspects of her life. Best friends, embarrassing moments, embarrassing moments WITH best friends... It was a hilarious list that never seemed to end.

After some time, Giselle did get tired, and shifted back slightly to place her head on Fred's thigh, much to his delight. Not that it showed in the huge grin that suddenly appeared on his face.

"What are you doing, Gis?" he asked gently, picking strands of her hair and playing with them.

"Using you as a pillow, I thought that was obvious," she lazily murmured back, eyelids slowly drooping closed. He chuckled, and she felt her pillow vibrate slightly, putting a smile on her face, and she snuggled deeper into her very comfortable "pillow", not that he minded. The warm, family like atmosphere made her feel safe, coupled with her long day and the soothing petting of her head, the noise in the room faded and everything turned black.

**A/N: I TOLD YOU I HAD A CHAPTER COMING RIGHT UP. WHO DIDN'T BELIEVE ME?! XD well, everything I want to say has been said, but I will repeat one point...**

**REVIEW PEOPLE REVIEW!**

**Oh, and would you mind if I put some er... Intra gender romance? No sexual intercourse, just, not everyone can be straight, right? I mean, Dumbledore's gay! I'm thinking more of lesbianism, not gayness, though. Eh, just put it in the review section, yeah?**


	7. Oddness at Ollivander's

"Hang on!"

The protest jerked Giselle half awake, the noise and babble of the room getting louder and clearer with every passing second.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" another angry voice demanded, this time right above her. "You're too young, you're not in the Order," it continued, becoming disturbingly high pitched and Mrs Weasley-like. Then, returning to normal, the person shouted "Harry's not even of age!"

"Woz 'appening?" Giselle mumbled, lifting her head from its warm and comfortable resting place. _Wait - warm? Since when are pillows warm?_ She sat up and blearily opened up her eyes, looking around in a disoriented fashion while stretching her stiff shoulders.

Registering the faces around her, she turned to the person closest to her - probably Fred - and gave him a questioning glance.

"We're trying to get Mum to let us know what's been going on with You-Know-Who," he replied.

"Who's You-Know - oh, Voldemort." A shudder ran through the room when Giselle mentioned the name, but she ignored it. _What's so scary about a name anyway? A basilisk's more deadly than he is, but we don't go around shuddering at the word._

"Yeah, Harry's allowed to ask questions and get answers, but we're not," George complained, shooting an ugly look at his mother.

Giselle felt a surge of curiosity spark within her. She wasn't quite as familiar with Voldemort, but now was a good time as any to obtain some knowledge, since Harry didn't want to tell her much. She could weasel some extra information from the twins later anyway.

"Come on Mrs Weasley, we're all around Harry's age! If he can know this stuff then why can't we?"

"Not you too! You don't even know what's been going on the past few years! Why would you want know?" the older woman shouted exasperatedly. She looked on the verge of ripping out her hair, causing Giselle to feel a pang of guilt at her distress.

"Well I figure this is as good a time as any to catch up, even if it's not the ideal starting point," she replied cooly. Mrs Weasley, on the other hand, could tell she was being overruled and simply huffed angrily.

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," Sirius interjected calmly, "that's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand -"

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!' Mrs Weasley all but shrieked. Her usually kind and motherly face had morphed into an extremely frightening expression. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" Sirius asked politely, but with an air of bracing himself for a fight.

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know," snarled Mrs Weasley, the last three words emphasised heavily.

At this point, most of the children had stopped what they were doing to watch the argument. Ginny was kneeling in the middle of bottle corks with her mouth open, the four boys whipping their heads back and forth between Sirius and Mrs Weasley as if they were watching a ball being tossed around. Hermione had looked up from her book in interest, and Giselle was taking in every word of the conversation, hoping they would let some information slip through.

Finally, after a bout of reasoning, shouting and coaxing, Mrs Weasley agreed to let Harry, Ron, Hermione and the twins stay, much to Ginny and Giselle's displeasure.

"I'm Harry's age! In fact, I'm a few months older, and my parents aren't stopping me, why can't I listen?"

"Because you don't know what exactly is going on in the first place, and your parents didn't give you permission to stay either!" Mrs Weasley shot back shrilly, glaring daggers at the girl.

"Well then fill me in! And I'm sure my parents won't mind if I survive this trip to Britain because I know what to protect myself from. Besides, they're going to tell me anyway, why can't I just listen to it first hand?"

"If they are going to fill you in then you can count on Hermione to give you an accurate report."

"But Mrs Weasley -"

"Up! Now!"

Knowing that the battle was lost, Giselle followed Ginny's lead and stomped up the stairs, awakening the portrait of Sirius's mother again. As soon as she started screaming obscenities and insults, Giselle's furious voice could be heard over it, shouting "SHUT UP YOU BANSHEE, FIND A BOYFRIEND SOMEWHERE ELSE BEFORE I BURN THAT UGLY FACE STRAIGHT OFF!" the shrieking stopped abruptly, then the sound of curtains being violently yanked followed not a second after, before footsteps sounded up the stairs, though not as loud as before.

After catching up to Ginny, they went into Fred and George's room to get an Extendable Ear and listen in to the discussion, only to find out Mrs Weasley had put another Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door.

"Your mum thinks of everything, doesn't she?" Giselle asked, thoroughly annoyed.

"Comes with raising Fred and George," was the explanation from an equally irritated red head.

The two girls then sighed and went to wait in their separate rooms for the meeting to be over to that they could find out what was going on.

* * *

A pair of loud cracks sounded outside the bedroom, notifying Giselle of the twins' presence. She jumped out of bed, the book on potions lying forgotten on it. Wrenching opening the door, she stuck her head and whispered "Is she asleep?"

Mrs Weasley had come up several times, to make sure the girls were asleep or at least minding their own business, and to tell Giselle about going to Diagon Alley to purchase her school supplies. She had also attempted to converse with Giselle, and after some time their anger had both ebbed, leaving no hard feelings between the two.

Both boys in front of her nodded at the same time, giving her the impression of seeing double.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Tell me everything!"

The twins exchanged looks for a second, then nodded. George promptly disappeared into their room while Fred opened the door wider and walked into Giselle's, before softly closing it behind him.

Giselle plonked onto the bed, motioning for Fred to sit in the space beside her. After they both were comfortable, meaning that Giselle was now snuggled comfortably under Fred's arm, he started the explanation, first with Voldemort's rise to power more than ten years ago, and ending with what had been discussed during the meeting.

When he had finished, it was close to midnight and they were both tired, yet at the same time wide awake, absorbing what had been said. Fred knew he should be going, so Giselle could sleep, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, he asked her about her life, which he found very interesting, and told her about some of his. Animated chatting soon turned into sleepy mumbling, and the Fred ended up sleeping with Giselle by his side, enclosed snugly in his arms.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the two, Molly Weasley had come up to check on Giselle one last time before she went to bed, and had found them in that situation. Fred's arms were wrapped protectively yet loosely around the girl, one around the shoulders and the other on her waist, drawing her close to his body. Her head was nestled into the crook of his neck, while her torso faced the ceiling and her legs were angled away from him.

Initially, she was about to wake Fred up and give him an earful, but just as she was about to barge in, she realised that they wouldn't do anything. Fred might be tempted to at some point, maybe after he had a dose of Firewhiskey, but Giselle would never let him go further than a drunken kiss. Besides, they were so innocently and blissfully asleep, each with a faint serene smile that she simply couldn't bear to rouse them.

* * *

The next morning, the sunlight on Fred's face woke him up. After the first few sleepy seconds of disorientation had passed, he realised that he was cuddling not a pillow, but a person. A person with dark hair. For a crazy moment, he thought it was Harry and was starting to freak out, thinking, _what in the name of Merlin's Hungarion Horntail boxer shorts am I doing with Harry IN THE SAME BED?!_

Revelation and relief soon dawned on him when he realised the person did not have black hair, but very dark brown hair that almost looked black. He also realised, from the formed under the blanket, that it was a girl, hence deducing that it was Giselle.

His muddled mind allowed his heart rate to slow for a second, before registering that he was currently hugging the girl he fancied very tightly. At this thought, a large grin broke across his face and he relaxed, pulling her closer, until... _Oh for the life of Merlin, what am I going to do about me liking her?_ This proved to be a very tricky question, and he groaned miserably. Finally, he decided to just tell her and play it off, like how Harry's dad did for his mum.

Feeling considerably calmer after figuring out his situation, he simply allowed himself to cuddle with her for a little longer. His arms tightened around her waist and he rested his head on her shoulder, examining her face carefully. After a while, he lifted the arm that was resting on her waist and gently shook her awake, chuckling at the confusion that crossed her face when she saw him.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he teased, pressing his forehead to hers.

"Ugh, Fred, go brush your teeth before putting your mouth so close to my nose," she said, faking disgust.

"I'm hurt! Don't you love me the way I am?" he exclaimed, putting his hands on his heart with an expression of mock offence.

"No," Giselle deadpanned in reply, shoving him away and flinging the covers off. She got up and stretched, ruffling Fred's already messy hear before strolling to to adjoining bathroom.

* * *

Breakfast consisted of bacon, eggs and toast for Giselle, with constant teasing of "you're going to get fat!" from Fred, and Ginny pestering her on how she managed to keep herself at an acceptable weight while eating as much as Ron. In response, Giselle simply gave them a mysterious smile and drank her tea.

Next was preparation for going to Diagon Alley to buy her school things. After some deliberation, it was decided that Fred would be accompanying Giselle to buy them, which led to him exclaiming "what? Why?" in protest. Not that he didn't want to go with her, he simply had been counting on cleaning to spend time with George thinking up new inventions.

"Because the only time you and George don't cause mayhem is when you're separated, and we can't have you messing up what we cleaned!" Mrs Weasley had explained, daring her son to argue with a glare.

Sirius had then offered to pay for her things, handing her the key to his vault at Gringotts, which she instantly declined. After a minute if them pushing the key back and forth, Fred snatched it out of Sirius's hand and pocketed it.

"Thanks mate!" he said cheerfully, a grin stretched across his face.

"Wha- Fred!" Giselle said in protest, whacking his stomach. "Give it back, I've got my own money!"

She then proceeded to try to grab it out of his pocket, which resulted in her writhing on the floor in giggles and stitches, at the mercy of Fred's tickles. The tickle torture stopped after she agreed to use Sirius's gold, but not without whining, slapping, running for the key and Mrs Weasley like shouting on her part.

The two exited the house with Fred loping happily out of the door, and Giselle grumbling about how Sirius didn't have to pay for her stuff after him.

Not a minute after they had left the house, Mrs Weasley and Sirius shared a look, that meant they had indeed seen the same thing. They were positive that Giselle and Fred would end up together someday, seeing how they had clicked so instantly.

"If your son hurts Giselle in any way, you can be sure I'll live up to the title of 'murderer'," Sirius said jokingly, staring after them.

"And if Giselle hurts Fred, I will not hesitate to ban her from the Burrow," Molly replied in the same tone, a small lump of emotion rising in her throat. Fred had definitely found the girl for him, the pair simply fit together perfectly. It was really only a matter of time before they realised this.

* * *

Bending over after the latest apparation experience with Fred, Giselle fought off the nausea and dizziness while giving him the best glare she could muster while resisting the urge to throw up on him. That would be a good enough lesson for him, though... Gets better with time my arse.

"It gets better after you get used to it, eh?" she growled with an accusatory glare.

"That's what she said!" Fred replied cheekily. A look of horror overcame her features as Giselle realised the innuendo in her speech, and gave her companion a hard thwack on his shoulder.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Weasley," she muttered, her embarrassment evident on her face. He simply laughed heartily and gave her a bear hug that could rival his mother's.

"You're just too innocent for your own good. Come on, let's go get your scholarly supplies," he said, ruffling her hair as he led her down the lively cobbled streets of Diagon Alley.

* * *

Amazement quickly shone through on Giselle's face as she walked down rows and rows of shops, which sold everything from books to broomsticks. Fred, however, led her past all the shops, coming to rest at a large white building that seemed to be made of marble. They had arrived at Gringotts, the wizard bank.

Upon arriving at Sirius's vault, Giselle was positive that wizards simply enjoyed the feeling of nausea whenever they travelled. She had yet to encounter a mode of transport that did not make her feel sick, apart from walking. They got the funds they needed, then exited the bank and back into the sunlight.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," she groaned, sitting on one of the steps and resting her head on her knees. Fred simply laughed and rubbed her back soothingly, the grin on his face not fading for a second. He just felt happy around her, and not smiling would feel unnatural.

"Is there a mode of magical transport that doesn't induce nausea or dizziness, or do you folks simply like it?" she grumbled good naturedly, getting to her feet. Fred laughed again, the sight of her stumbling down a step was just funny, at least to a prankster.

Being the chivalrous gentleman he was, Fred wrapped an arm around giselle's waist and made sure she didn't fall down the stairs, or over anything on the streets for the entire duration of their shopping trip.

After purchasing all the mundane things like school books and cauldrons, they went to Eeylops Owl Emporium to buy a pet for Giselle.

The inside of the store wasn't very well lit, but it was noisy. There were glossy black rats squeaking in a corner, who promptly started a spirited dance once she turned in their direction. In another section of the store, owls of all sizes and colours were snoozing under their wings, one or two waking up at the disturbance and hooting sleepily. And, all the way at the back, were the cats. Some were full grown, others kittens, all looking at them in interest.

One kitten in particular caught Giselle's eye. It was a black, with a white tipped tail and white paws, and another triangular blob of white fur near the nose. It's green eyes looked innocently up at her, and it rose up on its hind legs to bat the wire of the cage.

Ten minutes later, an Asian girl danced out of the store cradling a small black and white kitten with a tall, freckled, red headed boy whose arm was circled protectively around her waist.

* * *

Their last stop was, of course, the most anticipated. Ollivander's, the place where the famous wand maker sold his top quality wands. This shop was even darker than the emporium, and looked completely void of human activity. That is, until the bell at the door made its soft tinkling sound. Once the bell rang, an old man whose hair made him look like he had been grabbing a static ball appeared behind the counter, smiling at them.

"Ah, Miss Chia. I've been wondering when you would come. A spitting image of your mother, yes, I remember her well," he said, turning to scan the wall - yes, wall - of wands.

"I'm sorry, my mother? I don't remember her doing any magic, and I look nothing like her, at least I don't think so. You've got the wrong person."

"Oh no, I'm sure I've got the correct person," Ollivander said, whipping around with surprising speed and pinning Giselle with a piercing stare. "No matter, you need a wand. Wand, wand... Yes, I think this will do," he turned back to her delicately placed a box on the table. Carefully opening the lid, he gingerly extracted the thin piece of wood from inside and handed it to her.

In response to his deliberate movements, Giselle did nothing more than loosely hold the wand in her hand, not applying any pressure, almost afraid that it would break into pieces.

"Don't worry about damaging it, Gis. He handles every wand like it's made of crystal, these things are much more durable," Fred said. "Go on, wave it around, see how it likes you."

She tightened her grip a little, and gave a small flick of her wrist, aiming the wand at a single flower that was resting in a vase. It caught on fire. Gasping, Giselle quickly put the wand back in its box, apologising.

"It's quite alright dear, Mr Potter did much worse to that vase," Ollivander said, chuckling. "Here, try this."

Taking the next wand, she waved it at the dusty black box, causing it to jerk up and hit Fred on the head. She instinctively jerked her hand back, and the box soared back towards the table... Into the fishbowl.

"Not this one, I guess?" she asked timidly, handing it back. "Sorry, Fred, but I'm not kissing it better this time." _Much too embarrassing, I don't even know how I managed it last night._

Quite some time later, when she was getting tired of standing and her wrist was sore from all the flicking, Ollivander stopped for a minute and looked at her, staring into her eyes. Startled, Giselle didn't know what to do other than stare steadily back into his. Seemingly satisfied, he turned and walked to a far corner of his shop, momentarily disappearing from sight. He returned with another box, one that looked like it hadn't been opened in years.

"Come, let's try this," he said.

Giselle looked at the wand in his hand, liking the it's design immediately. There was pattern of snowdrops twisting up and around the wand, ending with a single flower bud about halfway up. The whole thing was made of a light reddish brown wood.

She picked it up, feeling a sort of coolness surround her hand the feeling she got when she lay on the cool side of the pillow. Smiling, she knew exactly what she wanted to do with the wand.

Extending her left palm, she gave the wand a gentle twirl above it, pulling away gently. _Please, please don't explode like last time. I'm taking a huge risk here. _

To her relief, a single glass snowdrop materialised in her palm, looking as beautiful and delicate as a real one.

"Rowan and Dragon Heartstring, twelve and a half inches, inflexible."

Ollivander's assessment of the wand snapped her out of her admiration of the little glass object in her palm. She looked up to see him smiling down at her thoughtfully. "How very odd," he murmured.

"Sorry to pry, but what's odd?" she asked, twirling the snowdrop between her thumb and forefinger.

"This wand is made of Rowan wood, whose match is always in a witch or wizard of great virtue, who is pure of heart, and goes very strongly by morals. Not many have these qualities. Those who did possess them were rare, years ago, and now, precious few have pure intentions.

Dragon Heartstring, however, is seen as a dark core, for it can turn to dark magic quickly. These are very contradictory materials, Miss Chia. The only people who have this type of wands also have certain... Special abilities. Gifts from the heavens, you could say."

Here he paused, staring intently into her eyes again. Puzzled, Giselle frowned at him and frowned slightly, but did not break eye contact. After stepping back slightly, he smiled and held out the box for her to place the wand in. Snapping the lid shut once she had done so, he gave to her.

"That will be seven galleons please, Miss Chia."

Fred stepped up and payed for the wand while Giselle took it back out and gave it another experimental wave at the box. To her surprise, the black box become a light brown wooden one, with a snowdrop carved into it in the middle. The lid had also changed, there was now a hinge at the back, instead of it coming right off.

On the inside, she discovered that it was no longer for keeping wands, as there was no lining, no small alcove to keep the wand in. No, it was now a perfectly normal, yet pretty box. She tucked the glass flower into the box and gently closed the lid.

"How'd you do that?" Fred asked, turning back to her.

"I have no idea, I just waved it, and -" Giselle motioned at the box she held.

"Well, you're going to be brilliant at transfiguration. McGonagall's going to adore you."

She laughed lightly, scooping the kitten into her arms on her way out.

"What are you going to call her, by the way?"

"I dunno, maybe... Snowdrop?"

"Very fitting," Fred said, throwing an arm around her shoulder while looking at the new and improved box in her hand. "Where's that glass snowdrop?"

"Put it in the box," Giselle said. "Why?"

Without saying anything, he took the box from her and pulled it out, then pushed Giselle's hair behind her ear, hooking the stem around it o that the white flower was resting against the top part of her ear.

"There we go," he whispered. "You look brilliant."

Giselle blushed and lifted her hand to her ear self consciously. "Thanks," she said.

"Come on, let's go get some ice cream," Fred said, taking the offending hand and pulling her towards the ice cream parlour they passed earlier. "My treat, for the Snowdrop princess."

He knew she hated girly nicknames like that, and took off running, Giselle hot on his heels.

* * *

**A/N: WHOO! Longest chapter so far! *proud of myself* so, yay or nay? TELL ME. really, just tell me, because suggestions is the best thing you can possibly give me.**

**By the way, is it going to slow? And does the Giselle character seem too typical? Like a Mary Sue? Ah, worries, worries... If any of you are wondering I AM going to put in a few pretty major personality flaws, she will NOT be a Barbie doll. **

**On that subject, is there anything you would want me to use as her flaws? Jealousy problems, anger management etc... TELL ME. REVIEW ME. JUST WRITE SOMETHING IN THERE WOULD YA, THANKS.**


	8. Harry's Hearing

Harry's Hearing

Sunlight filtered through the gossamer curtains, birds chirped and cool air brushed lightly against Giselle's face as she stretched lazily and took in the fresh morning air. No, that was what she had hoped for. What actually happened was Mrs Weasley barging into her room, shouting "Wake up! Now!", causing her to awaken from her pleasant dream of riding a hippogriff. The air was cool all right, cool to freezing point. There really was no such thing as summer in London.

Not five minutes later, Mrs Weasley had barged in again, going almost hysterical about how Harry's hearing had suddenly been rescheduled and that Giselle, his only witness who was a witch, was now five minutes late. That got her shooting out of bed and doing her morning routine in what she liked to call "Get Ready For School" mode. Basically, doing everything at top speed with minimal concern for thoroughness.

While (very roughly) brushing her teeth and hair and the same time, she stepped into her sneakers (thank the Lord I undid the shoelaces last night) and kicked the wardrobe door open. She quickly ran back into the bathroom, throwing the hairbrush onto the bed on the way, and spit out the toothpaste before washing her face and dashing back into her room, grabbing a pair of light grey jeans and a blue shirt, throwing them on and sliding down the banisters, something she found was much faster than walking or running.

After exactly seven minutes, she jumped off the stair railing that led to the kitchen and landed not-so-gracefully, almost kissing the eggs.

"I'm done!" she shouted, while yanking toast off the plate and shoving it into her mouth, looking at Mrs Weasley questioningly.

"Wonderful dear, now Dumbledore is waiting in the hall, you're going to get to the Ministry by side-along apparation. He was going to brief you about what to do, but I suppose you'll have to wing it and hope for the best. Good luck, now go!" she said, flapping her arms and looking extremely flustered.

Giselle then flew up the stairs, taking them two at a time and realising how useful the location of her classroom, which was on the top floor of her school, had been in terms of training for situations like these. She was in the hallway in ten seconds flat, and saw a very tall man with long white hair (that must be Dumbledore) standing near the entrance with his back facing her. Having picked up too much momentum to slow down fast enough, she let out a short scream to alert him of her hazardous presence before they very painfully (for her nose, at least) collided.

The scream had not gone unnoticed by the portrait of Mrs Black, whose curtains were promptly flung open violently, revealing a rabid dead person. "BLOOD TRAITORS! FREAKS! VILE BEINGS-"

"Hello professor!" Giselle shouted over the din.

Dumbledore proceeded to casually flick his wand at the portrait, which made the curtains snap together, silencing Mrs Black.

"Good morning, Giselle. I trust the first fifteen minutes of your awakening has been eventful?" he replied with a benign smile.

"That's a bit on an understatement, but yes, it has been eventful," she said, smirking slightly.

"Now take my arm, if you please," he instructed. Then her turned and Giselle was once again overcome by the sensation of being squeezed through a rapidly constricting full-body corset.

* * *

They arrived in a place that reminded her of a dungeon, just without prisoners hanging by their wrists and screaming in pain. A heavy wooden door, which she steadied herself on, stood right in front on her, bearing the number ten.

"Here we are," Dumbledore announced cheerfully. "I shall enter first, and you may only come in when somebody comes to get you. Do you understand?"

Giselle nodded in reply, not trusting her breakfast to stay in her stomach if there was a way out.

"Good. If you don't mind?" he said, gesturing toward the door her hand was on. Flushing, she pushed away from it and leaned against the stone walls, allowing him to walk through.

Once the door had closed, the pressed her eye to the keyhole. It wasn't the perfect viewpoint, but it would have to do. She was just in time to hear his full name, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. _That's a long name_, she thought, snickering softly when Harry turned his head so fast she was surprised he didn't sprain his neck.

She surveyed the audience of Ministry witches and wizards, instantly taking a liking to the two witches that waved enthusiastically when Dumbledore walked in. The Minister looked flustered and very unpleasantly surprised. _I bet he purposely rescheduled it hoping Harry wouldn't come, or Dumbledore wouldn't make it. Git._ The youngest in the room was a boy, or a man, with curly, flaming red hair and horn-rimmed glasses like Mr Weasley's. Although she had never seen him before, a name rang through her head. Percy Weasley. _Git_, she thought for the second time that day.

Her gaze rested on Amelia Bones, the judge, and after she complimented Harry's patronus-casting skills, Giselle decided that Madam Bones was the only good thing Harry had in the hearing that was in the Ministry. She seemed strict, but fair. Much like the Professor McGonagall she had been told about.

Dumbledore then mentioned having two witnesses being just outside the door, and Giselle jerked away from it. _Two? I should have noticed another... Oh, there she is._

"Hello Mrs Figg, how are you?" she asked, after getting over the slight shock.

"I'm fine dear, how's Harry holding up there?"

"He's doing brilliant, thanks to Dumbledore. I must say, Fudge sounds like a right pain in the-"

"You should not be badmouthing the Minister, especially not in the Ministry, and most definitely not when he's just behind the door," a pompous voice said from behind her. She jumped and spun around, coming face to face with who she assumed to be Percy.

"Well then you shouldn't have insulted your parents when they were right in front of you, then," she shot back, feeling a surge of anger rise up within her.

"What do you- That's not- How did-" Potential-Percy spluttered, obviously taken aback.

"Oh shut up Percy, I've met your family over the holidays." she snapped, rolling her eyes. "The twins, Ron and Ginny have used extremely interesting and colourful vocabulary to describe you, you should be honoured." her voice had taken on a sickly sweet quality, as had the expression on her face.

"I don't care what my family has said," he sniffed, confirming her suspicion that he was indeed Percy Weasley. "The Ministry is clearly the side that has their heads on correctly, and if you cannot accept that then you might as well be helping He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

The last statement had Giselle tempted to lunge at him and knock some sense back into his empty head. She swallowed her anger, forcing herself to keep calm.

"Are you saying Dumbledore doesn't have his wits about him then? Because if that's the case, I hate to imagine how much brains your dear Minister has, considering he's being outsmarted by someone who's gone batty," she said with false innocence, plastering the smile she reserved for heavy sarcasm on her face and tilting her head to the side.

Realising he was simply digging deeper into his own grave, Percy turned away from her and motioned for Mrs Figg to follow him into the courtroom.

* * *

Again, Giselle peered in through the keyhole to observe the hearing, groaning and mentally face palming at Mrs Figg's pathetic description of the attack. However, she managed to salvage some of it by insisting that it was not what she saw, but "that is what happened".

The door opened again, Percy and Mrs Figg walking out. Percy then shot Giselle a dirty look, which she responded to with another fake smile, before he jerked his head in the direction of the courtroom. She pranced in after his angry figure, smiling up at the witches and wizards with the same fake smile plastered on her face. Most of them simply gave her a strange look, but otherwise ignored her, but one nasty-looking wizard gave her a glare. In response, she widened her smile and waved.

When she reached the Minister, however, she changed her expression to the one she saved for dance performances, and stared straight at him for a second, giving the look that her dance teacher taught her, which would "electrocute" whoever you were staring at. To her delight, he gave a small involuntary jerk, signifying that it had worked very well.

"Your full name?" he asked imperiously, after recovering.

"Chia Shu An, Giselle," she answered after she sat down in the extra chair. She smirked at the minister for a fraction of a second, then crossed her legs and leaned back.

"You were present at the supposed dementor attack?" he snapped. Giselle allowed herself a small smile. _It seems I have a knack of getting onto the Ministry's nerves. At least on the idiots within it._

"Yes, I was. It wasn't a 'supposed' attack by the way, it really did happen. I saw them," she said, every syllable ringing with suppressed impatience.

Fudge checked his list of registered witches and wizards, finally closing the book and staring straight at her sceptically.

"Hmm, should've guessed I wouldn't be on that thing, I'm a new discovery," she said, examining her nails in a bored manner. "I'm not a squib though, and I can prove it, with your permission, Minister?"

"I don't have time for- oh, fine, go on," he said, quailing slightly under the glare she gave through her fringe.

Whipping out her wand, she pointed it at the bottle of ink beside Percy's notes. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she said, and it immediately started floating a few inches off the table. With an evil smile that would have made the twins proud, she levitated it up over Percy's head, and before he had time to react, she twisted her wand and emptied the bottle over his head, drenching the notes he took of the past forty-five minutes or so.

"ARGH!" Percy shouted in shock and anger. He jumped up from his seat and glared at Giselle, who cooly returned it with a calm gaze.

"Quit getting your knickers in a twist, Perce. You can probably clean yourself and you notes up with a simple spell or two, I've seen your mum do it," she said with a slight smile.

* * *

Harry, on the other hand, was shaking with silent laughter. Giselle sassed Fudge without an ounce of fear, and her behaviour when she came in was absolutely brilliant. It wasn't like anyone could miss the sarcasm behind the sweet, innocent "girl-next-door" gestures, and whatever she did to Fudge, his reaction was priceless.

And now, she had gotten one on Percy. Percy, who was as good as the minister's right-hand-man. Pouring a bottle of ink on him was like pouring it on Fudge himself! Brilliant, positively brilliant. She shouldn't have done that, since it was very dangerous, but brilliant nonetheless.

"That is enough!" Fudge yelled, going red in the face. He looked furious, but Giselle didn't even flinch. She stared right back at him, with one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, I reckon the ink bottle's just about drained, don't you Harry?" she replied with a smirk in her voice, turning to face him. He was still having trouble maintaining a straight face, and when she turned he couldn't help but grin at the mischievous glint in her eye. That wasn't enough for her, that was far from enough. He simply nodded, not trusting himself to refrain from laughing out loud if he opened his mouth.

"Well, I s'pose you're going to ask me about the attack, so I'll get right to it. We were walking along the road, don't ask me which one because I can't remember, when Harry and his cousin Dudders got into a bit of a argument. Then all of a sudden it became really, really cold and the lights went out, the stars seemed to disappear too.

"Next thing I know, Dudley's panicking, and he punched Harry, then ran for it, right into the dementor. I couldn't really see what was going on then, only heard Dudley screaming a bit, then Harry got his wand and did that spell that makes the tip light up, and well, they looked terrible. Like the Grim Reaper really, just without the scythe. Then they, well, it was horrible," here she paused for a moment, looking a little frightened.

"They started to sort of... Suck air? Like, right from Harry and Dudley's lungs. And the noise was disturbing to say the least. Sort of like a person with asthma also had pneumonia, and was trying to take deep breaths. They didn't get to me, thank god, but it was terrifying just the same. I started to relive the most horrible things, and when I tried to think of something happy it sort of popped up in my mind for a second then flickered away," at this point, Harry noticed that she seemed to be on the verge of tears. It was a horrible experience, and recounting it in front of the whole Wizengamot was taking a huge toll on her.

Taking a deep breath, (thankfully she was neither asthmatic nor suffering from pneumonia) Giselle continued her story.

"Then Harry he sort of shouted something, and there was a burst of silver light, then a stag, or a moose or, well, something with antlers came bursting out and chased the dementors away. It disappeared after they were gone, and that's when Mrs Figg came to get us."

After finishing her story, Giselle let out a long breath and deflated into her armchair. Harry was relieved to find that she had gave a much more accurate and believable account of a dementor attack, including how they looked, without any mistakes. Her audience was also quiet, maybe stunned into silence, which was broken by Fudge clapping very obnoxiously.

Feeling his temper flare, it took Harry all he had to refrain from getting up and hexing him silly. Giselle had almost cried telling them about the attack, and he clapped like they were kids putting on a show. He didn't know her very well, but he did know that she wasn't one to cry easily.

* * *

"What a wonderfully well-rehearsed story, don't you agree?" he said loudly. Giselle felt her jaw drop in shock. She had just finished recounting the most terrifying experience of her life, which included nearly falling off a gymnastics trampoline multiple times, and he said it was just a story?

"A story? You think I just told you A STORY?" she screeched, leaping to her feet. "Have you every experienced a dementor attack, _Minister_? I'm pretty sure you haven't, because if you did you would know its not exactly good material for a bedtime story! Especially not for the weak and cowardly hearts of you lot. You better pray Voldemort doesn't send dementors to your neighbourhood like he did to Harry, because you would probably die of fright in an instant, and when that happens you'll be begging for Harry to pop out of nowhere and rescue you."

Her voice had gone from a wild shriek to a dangerous low snarl, and her hands felt hot, very hot, as if she were holding a ball of fire in her fists. Even though she was speaking fairly softly, the whole courtroom was silent, so everyone could hear her words loud and clear.

Taking a few deep breaths, she unclenched her fists and sent one last glare towards the minister, before storming out of the courtroom.

* * *

Once she heard the door slam behind her, she instantly regretted her actions. Mrs Figg had provided a terrible account of what happened. Honestly, dementors running was like a chicken flying up to the clouds. Did those things even have legs to begin with? _No Giselle_, she scolded herself. _Having two witnesses is better than having one, no matter how rubbishy the first is- and would you stop being so conceited? It's not like you handled it perfectly._

If the Minister let Harry off, it would be all his and Dumbledore's work, in fact it might have been better if she had just stayed away. Her attitude inside definitely wouldn't help, on the contrary it would give the Ministry more incentive to expel Harry. All she could do now was hope and pray that Dumbledore would be able to clear up her mess.

Fifteen torturous minutes later, Harry walked out through the door. Giselle rushed up to him immediately, and before she could get a word in, he grinned and said "Cleared. Of all charges."

The information took a few seconds to sink in, but once it did, she tackled him into a bear hug, squealing excitedly.

"Oh Harry, that brilliant! I was so worried, I mean what if I botched it up by acting all snooty and storming out and Fudge didn't want to clear you, and- oh thank God!" She had let go of him momentarily to ramble a bit, but was suffocating him again once the last word got out.

He grinned at patted her back lightly awkwardly, beaming when Mr Weasley walked in.

"So, Harry, I assume you're off the hook?" the balding, red haired man said.

"Yeah, I am," he said, barely able to contain his own joy and excitement.

Dumbledore then walked out of the courtroom, after a very disgruntled Fudge. Smiling gently at Giselle, who was still squeezing the life out of Harry, he interrupted her near-hysterical rant.

"Miss Chia," he said, chuckling slightly.

"Yes?" Giselle replied, still clinging onto Harry's neck.

"I have spoken to the Minister. You are allowed to use magic this summer, so as to practice the spells your friends have learnt," he informed her.

"That's wonderful, professor. Thank you."

He smiled another one of his famous benign smiles in reply, then swept out of the corridor.

* * *

Soon after he had left, Harry and Giselle followed Mr Weasley out too. They hadn't gone far when she saw the Minister talking to a man with long blonde hair. Not long as in to the nape of the neck long, but long as in it reached the middle of his back, hanging there like a curtain.

Both Fudge and the man turned upon hearing their footsteps. The man with blonde hair sneered unpleasantly at them, before talking to Harry and Mr Weasley. Giselle found herself trying bore a hole into his forehead with her gaze. The way he was talking to them was plain insulting and condescending. _Stuck up, arrogant git_, she thought, glaring harder into his head, which didn't go unnoticed.

"Ah, you must be Potter's witness, besides that squib," he said. The way he said the word "squib" got on her nerves, it was as if he meant "lowlife" when he said it, which he probably did. "I hear you have quite an attitude."

"Can't be worse than yours," she sneered in return. "What're you doing, bribing the Ministry to overlook your dirty work?"

The man stepped closer, using his cane to jab her neck, where her pulse was. They were practically nose-to-nose, him obviously trying to intimidate her. It was working, to an extent, but she ignored the dread in her gut and stared steadily back into his cold grey eyes.

His eyes widened an infinitesimal amount in surprise. He tilted his head to the side a little, cocking an eyebrow.

"You will want to watch your words in future, Giselle," he hissed, saying her name as if it were an insult. "You will pay for them one day, if you're not careful."

Dropping the cane, he stepped back, glaring at all three of them one last time before going to the minister's office.

**A/N: WHEEEEE got another chapter up! Same routine as always, don't forget to review, tell me what you think! I tried to make this chapter funny, did it work? Personally, I LOVE Giselle's sarcastic snappy side, and how did you think the bit where she sort of insulted Mrs Figgs' witness account went? I TOLD YOU SHE WASN'T GONNA BE A PERFECT LITTLE BARBIE DOLL.**

**Anyway, I am promo-ing this page:**

** .com**

**for a friend. DON'T FORGET TO CHECK IT OUT, SHE WRITES BRILLIANT HEADCANNONS. Really, I requested three. I'm the idiot, if you haven't figured it out :P**

**And I shall add that this friend is the person I run EVERYTHING through with before posting. We're like writing buddies, I guess xD**

**Thats all for today folks, REVIEW. AND CHECK OUT THAT BLOG. GO GO GO.**


	9. Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors

News of Harry not getting expelled, and instead being cleared of all charges, was met with extreme enthusiasm. Ron had punched his fist into the air, almost breaking Ginny's nose in the process, saying "I knew it! You always get away with stuff!" Hermione had gone from looking like she was about to faint from worry to looking like she would faint with relief. Ginny, who narrowly avoided Ron's fist, had gone to join Fred and George in some sort of tribal dance and chant. They seemed to be saying "He got off, he got off, he got off..." in an excited sort of monotone while flailing their arms in the air and circling the table.

Mr Weasley was trying to tell Sirius about their run-in with the blonde, who was called Lucius Malfoy, and was the father of Harry's enemy in school, Draco Malfoy. Ginny and the twins then decided to chant even more loudly and obnoxiously, causing him to tell them to shut up with to avail.

"He got off, he got off, he got off..." they chanted stubbornly, Giselle joining them with a huge grin.

"Would you lot just SHUT UP?" a voice snapped over the noise. Everybody stopped what they were doing for a second to stare at the cause of the interruption of their celebration.

The owner of the voice was a girl with straight black hair that went down just past her shoulder, who also sported a very dark tan. She was wearing a pair of black rectangular glasses, her mouth pressed into a thin line in annoyance. Like Giselle, she was Chinese.

There was a moment of silence where everyone simply stared at the intruder, while Giselle's mind processed her face. Half a second later, realised who the person was and a huge grin broke out on her face.

"DORA!" she squealed, streaking up the stairs and pulling the girl into a huge hug. The other girl stumbled back a little, still unaccustomed to Giselle's ambush even though she had been on the receiving end countless times.

"How many times have I told you to STOP calling me that?" she asked in an annoyed tone, though her huge smile betrayed her true emotions.

"About ten thousand," Giselle easily shot back.

"And when have you ever listened?" she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Maybe once, when we were seven and I didn't yet know you would never murder me."

The girl rolled her eyes at Giselle, who returned it with an easy grin. Their exchange reminded the Weasleys of the interaction between the twins and Percy, before he sided with the ministry. The two girls stood there for a few seconds, simply staring each other down, before going in for another hug. Nobody in the kitchen understood what had happened within those few seconds, in fact not one person had ever understood how the pair of friends could go from one almost slaughtering the other to acting like long lost sisters in seconds.

* * *

For the rest of the day, Giselle and her friend, Adora, were attached at the hip. In fact, it was fairly safe to conclude that they were another Fred and George, but easier to tell apart. They had all the symptoms of twin telepathy, like being able to know what the other was thinking and completing each other's sentences, though the latter was not shown as much. The two also never seemed to get sick of each other's company, and could simply be found chatting and laughing about nothing in particular.

By the time dinner had come around, and they had spent hours in the drawing room practicing spells with Sirius and Remus, the two girls managed to master most of the first year spells. Rather, Giselle was starting on second year while Adora was quickly catching up. They were now charming little objects to fly across the room once in a while, and entertained everyone by turning Ron's cutlery into spiders and scorpions just before it reached his mouth, only stopping when Mrs Weasley threatened to confiscate their wands, but not without the corners of her mouth twitching just a minuscule bit.

* * *

"I think we gave Ron another phobia, don't you think?" Adora said after dinner, watching Giselle transfigure a butterbeer cork into a scorpion that chased Ronald around the house.

"Yeah, I reckon he isn't all that comfortable with scorpions now, after almost eating one alive," she said, lounging against the sofa. Everyone was laughing and watching them torture poor Ron, who looked terrified. Well, except the adults, since they were at an Order meeting, and it was already established that someone had put an Imperturbable Charm on the door again.

Adora, who was controlling the scorpion's movements, flicked her wand and sent it soaring onto Ron's nose, then pulling it away at the last minute. This resulted in him smacking himself in the face, to the amusement of all the others, save for Fred and George. They had gone to their rooms, muttering to each other and almost falling up the stairs.

This continued until the door to the meeting room, as it was now called, opened. The scorpion was, once again, a butterbeer cork, which was rolling around on the floor, Snowdrop chasing after it.

* * *

Collapsing on his bed with a sigh, Fred closed his eyes and flung his arm roughly over them, knocking himself on the nose in the process. He shot up, cursing colourfully. George, on the other hand, was snickering unabashedly. _Unhelpful idiot. _

"Rough day, eh Freddie?" George said.

"Shut up George," Fred snapped back.

A pregnant silence filled the room while Fred collected his thoughts and emotions. After seeing her practically glowing back in Diagon Alley, he didn't think she could possibly get any more attractive. But no, she had to come back from the hearing completely ecstatic, with the same glow of happiness.

Next was the tribal dancing and singing, or chanting. How she managed to make it look nice was a mystery. And as if that wasn't enough, Adora joined the fray. Giselle's reaction was like a dog seeing its master come back from work. She just seemed to perk up and start shining, before the over zealous ambush.

Of course, they just had to show off how fast they managed to pick things up by turning Ron's cutlery and whatnot into arachnids. It was hilarious, of course, and he had a brilliant time watching his little brother get terrified, yet not have to take the blame for it. But thinking back, he started to have a sort of sinking feeling in his gut.

_She wouldn't want me. She's a brilliant dancer, and funny and crazily smart. Me? I barely scraped three OWLs. I'm funny, but that's about it isn't it? I can't dance, I probably couldn't pick up all the first year stuff in less than a week..._

"This is not good..." Fred groaned.

"You bet it isn't," Giselle piped up from the doorway. The twins' heads jerked towards her at the same time, Fred clutching his chest, trying to calm his pounding heart.

"Blimey," he gasped. "How'd you do that?"

"I mean really, 'not good'? That vocabulary is already 'not good' in itself. You're the people I learned the language from, and you can't come up with something except for 'not good'? What about 'dismal' or 'horrendous', maybe 'sickening', or-"

"Giselle!" George shouted. She stopped short, looking at him curiously.

"Yes," she said.

"We get it, you've got a huge range of big words-" George said.

"But you don't exactly need to flaunt it in our faces, do you? Let the Englishmen retain-"

"some semblance of dignity."

She laughed softly at them, and said "well, you two aren't that bad yourselves," before turning away and running off shouting "Dora!"

This, of course, was doing nothing to help Fred get rid of his over-affectionate feelings.

_And now she's some sort of writer, she reads just about as much as Hermione, at least, to be able to rattle off like that. The way she looked with the light behind her, Merlin, who knew black hair could turn into that shade of gold? Don't get me started on her- _

He caught himself mid-thought, another groan escaping.

"This is horrible," he said through his hands.

"Much better," George said cheerfully. Fred then threw a pillow at him.

* * *

A few days later, when she went back to the drawing room to continue practicing the Disarming spell, Giselle was greeted by the back of a very tall man. The very same back that she had seen during her frantic rush to get to Harry's hearing on time.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Ah, hello Miss Chia. You have been well, I assume?" he said.

"Yeah, um... Do you want me to get Harry? He's in the kitchen, I can just-"

"That's quite alright, thank you. You are the person I wanted to see today, and your friend Miss Chen," he interrupted, blue eyes twinkling behind his spectacles.

"Oh," Giselle said, berating herself for sounding stupid. "Of course, give me a moment- DORA!"

"WHAT?" a voice shouted from the kitchen.

"GET UP HERE, SOMEONE WANTS TO SEE YOU!"

Dumbledore chuckled at the exchange. With the way they spoke to each other, they were either the best of friends or the worst of enemies.

"I'm telling you, if you practice jinxes and curses on me one more time, I'll- oh, hello," Adora said, momentarily stunned.

Another fatherly chuckle escaped Dumbledore's lips. They were proving to be a very amusing pair.

"Good afternoon, Miss Chen. Now, I am here to have you to Sorted," he said, smiling down at them.

They exchanged puzzled looks, apparently they hadn't been told about the Sorting in Hogwarts.

"I see you have not been told about this particular tradition. You see, we have four houses in Hogwarts. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Each house embodies different qualities, as does every student. This hat-" here he gestured to the hat that was sitting on a stool in a corner "will, for lack of better phrase, look into your head, and place you in a house depending on your personality and morals. It is also customary for it to sing a little song at the start of each year. I hope you do not mind if it reuses a song from previous years, as it cannot disclose what it has composed for this year's sorting."

The tall man flicked his wand, and the stool zoomed over to him.

"Let the Sorting begin," he said.

What Giselle thought to be a rip in the hat turned out to be a sort of mouth, as it opened and started singing.

"A thousand years or more ago,

When I was newly sewn,

There lived four wizards of renown,

Whose names are still well known:

Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,

Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,

Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,

Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.

They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,

They hatched a daring plan

To educate young sorcerers

Thus Hogwarts School began.

Now each of these four founders

Formed their own house, for each

Did value different virtues

In the ones they had to teach.

By Gryffindor, the bravest were

Prized far beyond the rest;

For Ravenclaw, the cleverest

Would always be the best;

For Hufflepuff, hard workers were

Most worthy of admission;

And power-hungry Slytherin

Loved those of great ambition.

While still alive they did divide

Their favourites from the throng,

Yet how to pick the worthy ones

When they were dead and gone?

'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,

He whipped me off his head

The founders put some brains in me

So I could choose instead!

Now slip me snug about your ears,

I've never yet been wrong,

I'll have a look inside your mind

And tell where you belong!"

The rip closed again, and the hat seemed to wait expectantly. Giselle brought her hands together, slowly clapping. Adora joined in, and soon they were clapping and cheering vigorously.

"Whoo!" Giselle shouted.

"Go Hat!" Adora yelled.

"Brilliant song!" Giselle cheered again.

This continued for a minute, until Dumbledore cleared his throat, once again looking amused.

"Miss Chen, if you may," he said, gesturing to the stool again.

Adora sat on the stool as the hat was lowered onto her head. Not long after, the rip opened again, the Hat shouting "HUFFLEPUFF!" in its throaty voice.

"You? Hardworking?" Giselle scoffed jokingly. "No way."

"Coming from the person that would sleep till noon if she could," Adora replied with a grin.

"Oh shut up, Puffy."

"Miss Chia?" Dumbledore once again interrupted.

Once the hat was resting on her head, Giselle heard its voice in her head, as if they were communicating through thoughts.

"Hmmm, how very interesting..." it mused. "You have wit, yes, a good abundance of it."

Giselle thought back to her attitude to the Ministry, snickering softly.

"And loyalty, you are very fiercely loyal, I see. Unafraid to let your thoughts be known, with a healthy dose of dreaming big. Qualities of all four houses, but which to put you in...?"

_"All four houses? I'm like the Hogwarts poster girl then? How very flattering,"_ Giselle thought, or relayed, to the hat.

"You've got nerve, girl. Just like your mother."

_"My mother? What-"_

"Well, that settles it then. GRYFFINDOR!"

Her smile faltered a little. She had, frankly, been hoping to be put in the same house as Adora. Oh well, it couldn't be too bad...

* * *

"You're in Gryffindor? Brilliant! All of us are in Gryffindor," George said joyfully, pulling Giselle into a huge hug that rivalled that of Mrs Weasley's

"What about you, Dora?" he asked.

"Hufflepuff, and don't call me that!"

Upon hearing her words, Fred and George burst out laughing.

"What?" Adora asked, mildly offended.

"No offence, Dora, but Hufflepuffs are a bunch of pushovers," Fred said, snickering.

In retaliation, Adora pushed him over.

"Pushovers, you say?" she said, sitting on his stomach and smirking down at him.

* * *

Giselle and George roared with laughter, while Fred didn't do anything but grin sheepishly and rub the back of his head.

A party was held to celebrate their Sorting, and, to Adora's delight, Tonks had been a Hufflepuff too.

"Ignore them, Dora," she had said reassuringly. "Hufflepuff's as good as any other house, we've gotten our fair share of House Cups. It's Slytherin you'll want to beat yourself up over."

This statement had gotten a unanimous agreement, and the rest of the night progressed smoothly, with much talking, teasing and joking around the table.

* * *

**A/N: HAIII GUYS :D I am back! Well I haven't been away for very long, but well... So, what do you think of this new addition? The person Adora's based on is actually my best friend, whose Harry Potter HC request blog I shall re-promo :) **

** . **

**VISIT IT. IT'S GOOD. WAY BETTER THAN THIS. Okay, maybe that's arguable, but... She is a brilliant writer, I have no idea how she copes with all the requests. That woman is gonna explode one day. Oh, and did I mention, she's the person I run each and every chapter through first before publishing xD my editor, you could say.**

**By the way, the Sorting song was from Goblet of Fire, written by JK Rowling the inspiration for all these wonderful stories. If I could write that out... I would be jumping for joy.**

**So, review and tell me what you think, Kay? Good day, kind sirs and madams. **


	10. The Heck is a Boggart?

Once again, Giselle found herself jerked awake by a shriek. She quickly washed up got dressed, then stumbled out of her room to find the source of the noise. Once she opened her door, however, the sound of Fred and George apparating into the room and laughing like maniacs drifted through theirs.

She yanked it open without knocking, to see two identical red heads rolling on the floor, guffawing and clutching their stomachs. The sight of toys being put on display flashed through her mind for an instant, going away just as quickly.

Apparently, Ron was made Prefect. What was so funny about that, she didn't really know, but she did get a bit of a shock. Her first thought was, not Harry?

_Well, someone who got in trouble with the Ministry isn't exactly prefect material, is he?_ A voice in her head asked sarcastically.

_It wasn't his fault! What was he supposed to do, let himself get turned into some sort of cabbage? _

_Still, Harry's broken too many rules. Wasn't the Triwizard thingy last year supposed to be for seventeen and above only?_

_It's not like Ron stays out of rule breaking, and again, that wasn't his fault. That fake Moody put his name in, and the goblet chose him._

_He attracts too much attention, it would be stupid to make him prefect._

_Fair enough. _

* * *

"Hello? Earth to Idiot?"

Giselle was literally shaken back to her senses by Adora, who had grabbed her shoulders and started violently moving her back and forth.

"Yeah?" she replied.

"Remus is gonna teach us about Boggarts, are you coming?"

"Oh, um, yeah. Of course I am."

* * *

Five minutes later, Adora, Giselle and Remus were standing in front of a violently shaking desk. The girls' wands were out, and Remus was telling them about Boggarts, just like that time in Hogwarts two years ago.

Although she hated to admit it, Giselle was starting to feel a little queasy. What would it turn into? She didn't know what she was most afraid of, and had no idea of what to turn funny. A feeling of dread settled over her. She was fairly good at winging it, but not while gripped with terror.

Don't forget to add that she was scared of quite a few things. Mainly odd ghosts from the local horror stories she heard back home. Spirits of women who sucked your blood, stone lions that flanked the front door of a haunted house, which would come to life at night and trap whoever dared to go in, and kill them.

_You're being silly,_ she used to tell herself. _Ghosts and whatnot aren't real._ The problem was, she didn't think magic was real two months ago, and now she owned a wand. Who was to say there weren't such things as that horrible thing with a body that could detach from the legs and fly off to hunt humans?

Another part of her was dreading what Adora would say if she found out she got spooked by the local myths. Laugh in her face, probably. That wasn't quite as worrying, but Giselle couldn't really help it. _Just stop caring about what others think and get on with it, you dolt,_ she mentally snapped at herself.

"Ready?" Remus asked.

No, a voice screamed. _Shut _up, she told it. _Gryffindor my fat arse. Suck it up, you coward!_ She ignored it completely and nodded instead. To her right, Adora had done the same thing, looking much more confident.

Remus caught Giselle's gaze for a moment and sent her a reassuring smile, hesitating to open the drawer. She nodded again, swallowing the small lump of gratitude that had formed in her throat.

Slowly, he grabbed the handle, which caused the table to shake with renewed vigour. Giselle grabbed her wand tighter, unconsciously adjusting her feet so that she was more ready for a, as psychologists put it, "fight or flight". As her mouth ran dry, she found herself wishing the Remus would just pull it open and let her face it. This careful waiting and watching was not helping her gather her nerves. On the contrary, they were scattering all over the place with each jostle of the table.

Finally, it opened enough for the thing inside to rush out, which was exactly what it did. For a moment, it was a shapeless mass in the air turning into a snake one second and some woman with green skin the next, until Adora stepped up. Giselle found herself admiring and feeling slightly envious of her friend's courage. Given the choice, she would have run far away by now. Well, she was given the choice, but she didn't know what the heck a Boggart was then.

It hung in the air just a little longer, then became Giselle. The real Giselle simply stared in shock.

_She's afraid of me? Granted, I can get pretty creepy at times, but... ME? And I don't even look like me, that fake-me looks weird..._

After a minute of a thorough examination of herself, she realised what was wrong. The smile. The smile on her imposter's face was too sweet. _Heck it,_ she thought, _are my smiles ever sweet? Anyway, that look had better not cross my face ever again, it's revolting._

The Boggart-Giselle, (BogElle, she thought, snickering) widened her smile, before revealing what was previously concealed behind her back. In her right hand was a long, sharp knife, which was curved maliciously, like a hook.

Adora's face turned pale as her eyes widened. She seemed to be frozen, her knuckles turning white from the strength of her grip. Then, slowly, she opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

BogElle advanced closer, holding the knife above her head, stalking nearer and nearer to a frozen Adora. The sickly sweet smile morphed into something that Giselle found easier to stomach, but just as disturbing. It turned pure evil.

Trying a second time, Adora managed to gasp out a soft, strangled "riddikulus!". The third time, she stared at BogElle head on, then took a deep breath.

"Riddikulus!" she shouted, with much more force behind the words. With a small pop, BogElle turned into a mouse. Which was blindfolded, and flailing a tiny sword about the size of a needle around. Third time's the charm they said. They were right, thank goodness.

"Reepicheep?" Giselle exclaimed in disbelief. _Narnia's finest knight does NOT deserve to be blindfolded and flailing. _

Adora simply shrugged half guiltily and gave her a look that said "well, what can you do?"

* * *

Now it was Giselle's turn. She took one last jittery breath and stepped forward. Reepicheep turned back into the ever-changing mass, then settled on something much more grotesque (in Giselle's opinion at least) than a three-headed dog.

Without warning, the mass changed into a person. It was a young woman with dark brown hair that went a few inches past her shoulders. She looked like Giselle, yet it wasn't a similarity in facial features. They didn't have the same eyes, nose or mouth at all. Instead, it was more of their overall look that wasn't the same. The woman was taller only by about an inch or so. And the one thing Giselle found unnerving was her familiar face. The normally kind and caring face had taken on a horribly sinister edge.

Still, Giselle stood there, not quite knowing what to do. _She doesn't scare me, not one bit! What's this thing playing at?_

Just as the thought formed in her mind, the person began to speak. It was the same familiar voice, yet it brought her no comfort. The woman's voice had turned cold, bitter, void of its usual wisdom and compassion.

"Did you really think you were being smart? Little Giselle, running off to England to escape the problems at home?" she sneered patronisingly. "We were better off without you. You were the cause of all our problems, why did you think Mum and Dad argue about money so much? Because you used up all of it. They weren't planning to have you, but you just had to come along and spend all the funds they were banking on."

Giselle started to have a gist of what the Boggart was playing at now.

"You're just a useless waste of time, money and space! Did anything good ever come out of all we put in you? You couldn't play the piano, you can't draw, paint or do anything related to art, your dancing is mediocre at best and don't even get me started on your schoolwork."

The person was now stating whatever bad thoughts Giselle had ever had about herself. Every bitter, unhappy thing that had ever crossed her mind regarding her own capabilities were now spewing out of that thing's mouth in an unstoppable flow. She didn't even know how to think through this, to make it funny, because first her brain seemed to be shutting down with every insult, and second there was no way to make it funny.

"You're never going to be half as good as any of us at anything. You're untalented, without any gifts except that nice face of yours, but even with that nobody is going to be able to put up with you, ignore all the other stupid things you do, because you're just a failure. You embarrass me by being my sister. I hope you die there, fighting in that stupid war of yours. You probably won't survive the first five minutes, then everything will be back to normal, back to how it should be. Without YOU interfering!"

The thing - the person that she refused to recognise as her sister, finally stopped its horrible speech. Giselle now had silent tears streaming down her face. It was one thing to have those thoughts running through her mind when she was having a bad day, but another to have someone spit them in her face. Now, they were real. Concrete. The truth.

Even though some small part of her that retained rationality told her that it was just a Boggart, just something that could poke into her mind and grab those things out, it was greatly overruled by the part of her that was screaming all those things back with renewed conviction. The part that was, before this, easily squashed by rationality and optimism, was now taking over her whole system.

Just when she was gathering her wits and thinking that it couldn't get any worse, it did. The Boggart-sister had started screaming. It was just as, if not more, blood curdling and hair raising than the screams of the portrait in the hall. Its face was contorted in pure agony, and suddenly, it had dropped to the ground, writhing in pain. Then, words started coming out, no longer inflected with malice and loathing, begging Giselle to help.

Giselle, now completely in shock, could do no more than let out a terrified shriek and point her wand towards the floor. Again, her mind was split into two. One was screaming at her to just Riddikulus the Boggart - yes, Boggart, not your sister - into some sort of snake in a hissy fit. The other was desperately screaming at her to help her sister.

"It's just a Boggart, Giselle! Remember the incantation!" Remus called out.

His words brought reality crashing down on her - in a good way. Just a Boggart, right, you can do this, she told herself, wrenching her eyes away from her "sister" and imagining a snake tickling itself with its tail.

"Riddikulus!"she shouted, pointing her wand in the general direction of the Boggart with her eyes closed, hoping her blind aim would, for once, be accurate. There was a small pop, and when she opened her eyes, she saw a snake. That was tickling itself.

Releasing the breath she didn't know she was holding, she stumbled back to the wall and collapsed to the floor in a heap, a soft sob forcing its way out of her throat. They increased in intensity, until she was quietly gasping for breath in a corner while Remus taught Adora how to properly destroy the Boggart, not noticing her distress.

* * *

"Hey, Mum wants you all to... quieten... down..." Fred said as he barged in, trailing off when he saw Giselle crumpled up in a corner, practically hyperventilating.

"What happened to her?" He demanded, glaring at Adora and are us as if they had been the ones to spit insults in her face then start screaming in agony. He had never seen her cry so hard before. That one time when she just came in was nothing compared to this, and it scared him.

Giselle tried to speak but failed, only able to gasp out a sort of strangled croak. Adora now spun around, alarmed, and did a double take when she saw the state her friend was in. She started towards Giselle, but Fred had beat her to it, kneeling beside the crying girl and pulling her into his chest.

"I'm going to take her up to her room," he said, lifting her up as if she weighed nothing. Adora nodded, and without another word, Fred was walking up the stairs with Giselle in his arms. He kicked open her door and laid her gently on the bed, as if she was going to break if he handled her roughly. After that, he crawled in beside her and held her again, patting her back and whispering words of comfort in her ear.

* * *

A long time later, her gasping and occasional choking dwindled into sobs, which slowly descended to soft whimpers and small shakes of her shoulders. Fred had went from hugging her tightly to letting her cuddle into his side, constantly rubbing small circles in her back. His worry had gone down with the intensity of her crying, and he was now smoothing back her hair and giving her a small peck on her head.

_Should I ask what happened?_ He thought, glancing down at her small form. _No, better ask Dora. She was there the whole time, she'll know what happened._

"Thank you," Giselle murmured softly, taking him by surprise. Her face wasn't buried in his shoulder anymore, but was resting on his chest, left side up.

"Anytime, Love," he replied, brushing her damp hair away from her face.

A small smile graced her lips before she closed her eyes and sighed, possibly in content, before snuggling deeper into him. Not long after, her breaths became slow and steady, signalling that she had drifted off to dreamland. Fred pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, then closed his eyes and allowed himself to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: This was actually supposed to be with the precious chapter, but it would have been too long, so... One whole boggart filled chapter! Yay! And isn't Fred just so sweet?**

**Anyway, I just want to clear up some problems I found with the stuff I wrote previously. Like, when Dumbledore said she was allowed to use magic, but she already knew how to do the levitation spell? Yeah, she basically just ignored the rule that she isn't supposed to do magic outside Hogwarts, and now Dumbly has it legalised :D**

**And they were supposed to get their booklists that day, so I guess the other trip to diagon (where Giselle got her wand) was for things like cauldrons and robes and books on the incantations and whatnot she had to learn during the summer. They're gonna go again, with all the Weasleys, plus Harry and Hermione, to get the fifth year books. **

**So yup, that's about it, please give a review! Preferably with suggestions as to how I could eemprove my writeeng :)**


	11. Insecurities and Explanations

She massaged her temples in frustration. Opening her eyes, she peeked at the squashy armchair sitting across from her. Maybe there had been delayed effects? No. There it was, as green as ever. Painting it red could work. _We're painting the armchairs red, painting the armchairs red..._

_NO. No Alice in Wonderland. _The Queen of Transfiguration will not be happy. Then, in the blink of an eye... "OFF WITH HER HEAD!"

_**NO! **_

_Deep breaths, focus... Yes, now pick up your wand, good. Alright, now that over-stuffed thing over there is not green, but red. Red, do you hear? Okay, visualise it all scarlet and Gryffindor worthy. Now say the spell. Say it! _

_...Well damn._

"OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!" Giselle yelled, flinging the textbook towards the armchair. It hit the mark, right where the invisible Queen of Transfiguration's head would connect with her neck.

"Take that, you old ninny! Where's your Jabberwocky now?" she crowed in triumph. Twisting her legs here and there and doing a few body waves and random dance moves, she performed her own version of the Mad Hatter's Futterwacken. Of course, it wasn't anywhere near as good as the original, but she tried.

"For today, is Frabjous Day, and the horrible Jabberwocky has been slain. And now, I shall Futterwack... Vigorously," she announced to nobody in particular, as she did it again, very differently, ending with an elaborate bow. After a minute or so of satisfied panting, reality caught up with her, and she soon became frustrated by the fact that she simply could not do the colour-change spell.

Instead of mauling another book, however, she opted to make her way down to the kitchen for some hot chocolate.

* * *

What the tanned maiden Giselle did not know, however, was that just across the hallway, peeking out from a crack in his door, a certain valiant dog-man by the name of Snuffles Black was watching her Futterwack vigorously. He also witnessed, before that, the almighty Flinging of the Book, and shortly after, the turn of the century decision to administer herself some of the fabled Hot Chocolate.

And so he followed her down the stairs, to the kitchen, where he loitered around the door, waiting for the perfect moment to make his grand entrance. This opportunity presented itself in Giselle's battle to reach the top cabinet to get chocolate powder.

* * *

"Need a little help there?" he asked, striding in. Without waiting for an answer, Sirius reached up and easily snagged the container, before taking the empty cup from her hands and fixing both of them steaming cups of chocolatey goodness - the wizard way.

They both proceeded to settle their posteriors on the faces of the very comfortable mahogany chairs, sipping their drinks in a comfortable silence.

"So, Giselle," Sirius started, viewing her from above the rim of his cup. "I hear you have a talent for the Futterwacken."

Spluttering, choking and turning red, the person in question slammed down her mug and glared at Sirius through her watering eyes. After she was relatively calm, she popped the question.

"How - why - where -"

"My room is right across the study, my dear," he drawled, leaning back against his chair.

"Well why were you looking in the first place?" she asked, somewhat hysterically.

"I figured that there was something worth seeing when I heard a shout of 'off with your head' and a pretty loud thunk right after," said Sirius. "Really, you didn't think it would attract attention?"

"People don't usually follow me to Wonderland, see," Giselle replied dryly.

* * *

Chuckling appreciatively at her multi-faceted sense of humour, Sirius studied his almost-adopted-daughter. She had grown up well, not only physically but also mentally. She was so like and unlike her sister, whom he knew a tad but better, in so many ways. They shared their looks, but not build. And while both girls wielded a quick mind, only Giselle possessed the sharp tongue their mother had. Odette, on the other hand, inherited her father's famous "looks". And also -

"Hello? Sirius? You there?"

His thoughtful observations had been rudely interrupted by a very obnoxious hand. Giselle was also much louder and more outspoken than her sister.

"What? Where's the fire?" he asked, suddenly on full alert.

"On your sleeve," Giselle replied.

"On my - what?"

Following the flick of her wand, he saw a small fire eating away at the sleeve of his robes.

"Aguamenti!" he roared, panicking. In an instant, he was drenched, and Giselle was clutching her stomach with one hand while pounding her fist on the table with the other, laughing so hard that no sound came out of her mouth.

"You think that's funny, do you?" he asked, seething with mock anger.

Giselle managed to force out a jerky nod in response.

"Tarentallegra," he said in retaliation. Giselle was suddenly forced out of her chair by her spasming and jerking legs.

"Now that's what I call a Futterwacken!" Sirius cheered with glee.

Clearly incensed by her lack of muscular control, Giselle sent a plethora of jinxes and hexes his way, which all missed, hitting the various kitchenware lying around. A plate, for example, grew antlers while a pot sprouted leeks.

* * *

After the plate that grew antlers charged at him, Sirius decided that his kitchen had sustained enough damage for one night, and quickly stopped all the enchantments. Then he siphoned the water off the floor, and helped Giselle, who was dramatically splayed on said floor, to her feet.

Minutes of silence ensued, before they both opened their mouths to speak.

"Well that was fun," they said in unison. Then they burst out laughing.

Finally, after both inhabitants of the kitchen had gotten a hold of themselves, they stood side by side in a moment if peace. And in that moment, the reason Giselle had come down to the kitchen in the first place came rushing back into her mind, this time accompanied by the Boggart she faced.

"Sirius," she started, "do I seem like - do you think I'm a bit of a pushover?"

Taken aback, Sirius whirled around to face her, uttering the first word that came to mind.

"What?" he asked in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

"As in, well, I can't get that damned Colour Change Spell right. In fact, I can't do it at all, and well, there was the Boggart."

Truth be told, Sirius didn't know exactly what had happened in the drawing room that day. Whatever took place there, stayed there. All he did know was that while Adora was, for the most part, fine after her encounter, Giselle had broken down pretty badly.

"Everyone has fears, Giselle, and it so happened that yours was closer to the heart, and therefore affected you more."

"Yes, but... What if - what if what it said was true? What if I really am good at nothing?"

Mental alarm bells started to ring in his head. So this was what had happened. Or the gist of it, anyway. That was odd. Did others' opinions really matter so much to Giselle? She didn't seem like that kind of person.

"Don't ever think that way, do you hear? Even if people tell you that, it's most likely out of spite. They're just trying to get you down, don't let them do that. It's not true."

"That's easy to say, but everyone who knows both me and my sister, like really well, they kinda compare us. And, well, it's just that she's so much better at pretty much everything."

"It doesn't mean you aren't good at anything," Sirius said, pointing out the flaw if her logic.

"Yes, but... My sister, she's always praised on how good her results are, or how well she does this and that, but me? I get complimented on how much nicer-looking I've become since the last time that relative saw me," Giselle explained, rolling her eyes and scoffing.

"I don't want to be that little girl with nothing but air in her pretty head. I'd rather be known and appreciated for something I've worked for, not something I'm born with. And a nice face can be ruined by something as simple as an accident, or a burn or scar. As for things like brains and talent... They're a little harder to get rid of."

"So... You're jealous of your sister?"

"No! I envy her for being so good at everything, but I'm not jealous. As in, I admire her and I wish I could do those things, but I don't harbour any ill thoughts and feelings towards her."

Giselle sighed, appearing very deflated. Sirius couldn't really sympathise with her, because even though Regulus had been the family jewel, Sirius had hated his family, so it didn't matter. He didn't want praise or compliments from his parents, because it would have meant he did something to support the dark arts, or oppress muggle-borns or something terrible. He was far happier knowing that he didn't belong in the Black family, at least not to his mother.

"Envy or jealousy or whatever put aside, I'm sure only those idiotic shallow grand aunts with over-powdered faces do that. Don't take it to heart, you're a wonderful girl. You managed to topple a bottle of ink on that prat's head, didn't you?"

"Yeah, because drenching someone in ink, an act that could be counted as bullying, reflects so well on my character," Giselle snorted.

"Alright look," said Sirius, gripping her shoulders reassuringly. "That Percy had it coming ever since he took the side of the Ministry. That one act doesn't make you a bad person. And as for you not being good at anything... Most people can't master three and a half years worth of school work in a little more than a month. You are talented, beautiful and perfect in your own unique way and never let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?"

Giselle nodded dumbly, eyes glued to the floor. Her shoulders were drooping, and she was gnawing on her lower lip. And frankly, her dull mood was contagious, for he found himself feeling a little off as well.

Without thinking, Sirius stepped forward, and engulfed Giselle in his long arms, resting his chin on her head. Alarm bells rang again, but this time much more urgently.

_You shouldn't be so touchy-feely._

_Oh yeah? Then what do I do? There's nothing else I can say, so why not hug?_

_I dunno, maybe because YOU'RE NOT HER FATHER._

_Well her father's dead, I'm next best, he trusted me with the girls, after all._

_You know what I mean. You're not the man who raised her for more than a decade. You haven't got any parental rights._

_Well the man who raised her for more than a decade did nothing to raise her confidence levels._

_Just let go before she freaks and thinks you're a pedophile._

_Fine, when you put it that way..._

When Sirius finally (reluctantly, damn conscience) pulled away, Giselle looked a little better. Ah,the power of hugs! he thought theatrically. However, there were more surprises to come that night.

"Sirius?" said Giselle.

"Hm?"

"I read up a little on Boggarts in your library... They're not supposed to talk, but mine did."

He found the question within that simple statement.

"I'll ask Dumbledore during the next meeting, alright?"

* * *

The end-of-week meetings that Dumbledore frequented quickly rolled around. By that time, Giselle had mastered the Colour Change Spell, with Sirius's help, and now was working on Cheering Charms with Fred. Sirius had also been "casually" dropping by whenever Fred and Giselle were alone together, though he had never caught them in any compromising positions, much to his disappointment. Well, there was that one time...

It was just a normal, mundane day on Grimmauld Place... Until Sirius realised both Giselle and Fred were nowhere to be found. He instantly changed into dog form and literally sniffed them out, only to find they were dancing in the library. There was some soft classical music playing, probably courtesy of Fred, and Giselle was laughing as he awkwardly led her through the bookshelves, content to float along gracefully to his clumsy steps.

Frankly speaking, the scene was quite funny, for Giselle wasn't wearing anything nice. Just a baggy T-shirt and a pair of shorts, like any other day, and had her hair up in a bun which turned out unruly and messy due to her layered hair. Fred was no better, in his pants which had holes in them and old checkered shirt that may have once belonged to one of his older brothers.

Well a little waltzing was fine, he thought, but that all changed when Fred flicked his wand at the radio sitting on a table, and changed the song to a slow love song. Now by this time, Fred had made it painfully obvious to all that he fancied Giselle, well, all except for Giselle of course. The girl was thicker than a dictionary when it came to this.

So, when a nice, romantic love song "happened to" come on, Fred did what every guy who was dancing with the girl he liked did. He pulled her a little closer, and put his arms around her waist. Heck, Sirius remembered Prongs doing the same thing to Lily when he took her out on their first date. And Giselle, instead of pushing him away and calling him a cheeky prat, laughed and locked her hands behind his neck. Well, she did call him a cheeky prat, but her actions pretty much negated that.

Now the situation was getting a tad bit too romantic for Sirius's taste, and so, still in his dog form, he charged in between them. They quickly separated, and when they did, he changed back into a human and glared at both of them.

"No snogging in the library," he reprimanded.

"We weren't snogging," Giselle protested. "We were barely touching!"

"No displays of affection in the library, then," he barked, before turning away and stalking off, effectively winning the argument.

Granted, he had been a tad bit overprotective, but he had taken care of her when she was a baby. He had that small right. As yet another internal battle started, a tall man with long silver facial and head hair walked in, and Sirius pushed the fight to the back of his mind. Today was the day he gave Giselle the answer to her question from about 5 days ago.

* * *

The Order meeting droned on for a long time, all about new security measures and guard timetables. Towards the end of the meeting, however, Dumbledore mentioned Giselle, and not because of Sirius's question.

"I understand that we have two girls that are newly introduced to magic, one of whom is very interesting, for Miss Chia is, as some may know, not a muggleborn. Her real parents are Christopher and Elizabeth Chia, who died at the hands of Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters fifteen years ago. Her adoptive parents are merely distant relatives. Her father is the grandson of Christopher's grandfather's cousin, if I am not wrong.

Now, the point is not the nature of her parentage, but what happened the night her parents, her biological parents, died. I am sure you are familiar with the term "angel"? I have reason to believe such beings exist. Whether or not they are servants of God has yet to be confirmed, but they are, to be put simply, much like humans, but they can live forever, unless killed, and possess extraordinary powers.

My guess is this: when her parents died, an angel visited Miss Chia. Maybe he or she knew that the child would have a hard life, and was giving her some form of preparation, we may never know the motive. Details aside, the angel put some of himself, or herself into the young Miss Chia. An essence of sorts, probably, and equipped her with some of his own strengths, but only after they were extremely diluted.

Listen closely now, for this is of utmost importance. We must protect Giselle. She will have very unique abilities, and while they can assist us greatly, they will also cause much harm when abused by Lord Voldemort. Nobody we do not fully trust can know of her gift. And when her abilities show, it will be a much harder secret to keep, for even diluted, the power of an angel is dangerously strong. And, if Lord Voldemort ever comes to learn of this, we must do everything in our power to ensure she does not fall into their hands. Do you understand?"

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes bore into everyone else's, making some shift uncomfortably in their seats. Sirius didn't quite like this revelation. While Giselle could be very useful, she was also a great liability. They were all in danger while she was safely on their side, by simply trying to protect her. Even more so if Voldemort found a way to use her against them. This was a huge gamble, one that even he was unwilling to take, yet had to.

* * *

The meeting ended on that slightly ominous note, and as Dumbledore passed the doorway, Sirius stopped him.

"Professor," he said.

"Yes, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked kindly, eyes twinkling.

"Giselle's Boggart... It can talk. Boggarts aren't supposed to talk, are they? Could this have something to do with -"

"Her gift? Yes, I'm sure it does. You see, I think that when the angel blessed her, you could say, he not only gave Giselle extraordinary powers and abilities, but also some of his own angelic qualities. To put things simply, a small part of Giselle is angel. She is part angel, and though that part is too small to be noticed by us in daily life, things such as Boggarts and Dementors can sense it. One could say she has a purer soul, and so they work harder to destroy it."

"Oh," Sirius said, dumbfounded. He had changed a part-Angel's diapers. "That makes sense... In a way. Thank you, professor."

"And Sirius," the wizened man said, before he left. "Try not to tell her about this gift. You would have to explain how she came to possess it, after all, and it is not a pleasant story."

Before Sirius could say anything to stop him, Dumbledore swept out of the room, leaving him to ponder and worry about how he would explain the whole Boggart situation to Giselle without revealing who her true parents were.

* * *

A/N: hello people! I haven't updated this in a while, I know... And I have had reasons. Namely, religious activities (since it is so close to Christ's birthday) and... Homework. That obviously doesn't quite care for anyone's birthday. BUT I HAVE RETURNED. Though updates will be fewer and further between, since school is starting and I've left my student-ly duties a little late. I was hoping to write a Christmas scene by Christmas, but oh well. Maybe next year! XD

Happy Holidays everyone! Don't let the muggle homework get you down (like it did me.)


	12. To Hogwarts!

Hogwarts. They were finally going to Hogwarts. After weeks, even months of listening to stories about the ancient castle, with its secret passages and closed off towers, and even more about the wonders (or horrors) in the forbidden forest, the Giant Squid in the black lake, the grounds that provided an endless walk, they were finally going to Hogwarts.

Walking into the crowded station once again, Giselle skipped around happily with Sirius by her side, who was now barking excitedly at everything and chasing cats, as well as a human or two. They then made their way to platforms nine and ten, hanging around the brick wall in between.

Mr Weasley made a show of leaning "inconspicuously" against the wall, then smoothly slipped through. Even though she was told this would happen, Giselle couldn't help but gape at the sight of a fully grown man falling through a brick wall as if it were water.

It was hers and Adora's turn next, and they stepped up to the wall, looking at it dubiously. After a moment's hesitation, they both pushed their trolleys and walked right through it, emerging on to a crowded hidden platform.

* * *

After everyone had passed through, they found a compartment in the scarlet steam engine and stowed their trunks away before running back out to mingle. Even though they didn't know enough people to "mingle", Giselle and Adora followed anyway, just taking in the sights and sounds, gaping at displays of magic here and there.

Minutes later, a large dog ran up to them, barking excitedly.

"Hello Snuffles," Giselle greeted him. "What's up?"

Sirius, in animagus form, barked again and pulled her sleeve ferociously, almost yanking her off balance.

"What? Okay, okay I'm coming!" she said, laughing. "Come on, Dora!"

They stopped a particularly crowded part of the platform, which really was saying a lot. Students were squeezed in a circular shape around something - or somebody. They were chattering and whispering, and Giselle could make out a familiar tune somewhere in the background. Somebody was playing "Hey Jude" ... On the guitar. It was a piano piece, played on the guitar. She simply had to see who was playing it.

Grabbing Adora's hand, Giselle pushed through the crowd, ending up at the front. Once she got there, a familiar sight met her. A skinny, black haired boy was standing there, in the limelight, playing the guitar with a huge smile. At his feet was a small pile of coins.

Giselle threw a Galleon in, and the boy looked up with a grin, warm black eyes sparkling. Once he spotted her, however, his hands stopped strumming and his smile widened, if possible. He quickly set the guitar down and rushed forward, scooping her up and spinning her around in a huge hug.

"Malcolm!" Giselle shrieked in surprise, not from meeting her best male friend in a magical platform, but from the sensation of her feet leaving the ground. "Put me down!"

Obeying her orders, Malcolm set Giselle back other feet and took a step back.

"You know, for a skinny guy you really are strong," she said, punching his arm playfully.

"I'm hurt, Gis. I was expecting a hug, not a punch," Malcolm responded, pretending to be hurt.

"You already got your hug. Very forcefully, if I may add," Giselle said while pulling him into a comparatively gentle hug.

"Details, details." he said dismissively. "Where's your trunk? Let's get on the train."

* * *

His jaw hung open in sheer disbelief. What had just happened? One moment he was about to grab Giselle and the next... What? Malcolm? Hugs? _What?_ He looked down at the large dog sitting by his feet.

"What just happened there, Snuffles?" he asked, ruffling up his hair in frustration.

Snuffles simply barked loudly. A bark which sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

"You think this is funny, do you?" said Fred. Snuffles opened his jaw and let his tongue loll out in response.

Sighing, Fred jogged up to Giselle and her friend, who had been joined by Adora. He was introduced to her friend, who was called Malcolm. Malcolm who was Giselle's age. Malcolm who could play the guitar. Malcolm who was also Christian. Malcolm who was also Chinese. Malcolm who knew how to communicate with Giselle in the way she was most comfortable with. Malcolm who knew Giselle better.

Malcolm who was making her laugh. Malcolm who had picked her up and spun her around. Malcolm who was grinning down at her. Malcolm who had his hand on her waist.

Malcolm who had that look in his eyes. The look that Fred knew he also had.

Malcolm who would have a much better chance at winning Giselle over than Fred ever did.

_Damn. Stupid guitar playing buffoon. Just when I was making progress..._

With a sudden rush of determination, Fred strode forward and grabbed Giselle's hand, pulling her out of Malcolm's grasp and into his own. He slipped his arm where Malcolm's was resting just a moment ago, and started blabbering about a prank on Malfoy while he all but sprinted to the Hogwarts Express, a bewildered Giselle in tow.

* * *

For the first few minutes of the train ride, Fred and Malcolm were making forced conversation. George was whistling, while Giselle and Adora exchanged looks.

"So..." said Giselle. Everyone turned to stare. "Um, what were you saying about pranking Malfoy?"

"Oh, yes the prank, yes," George nearly yelled, jumping on board the express train out of awkwardness. "We're gonna put a love potion in his food."

"And who is he gonna 'fall in love' with?" Giselle inquired.

"Ah, now that is where spying comes in..."

* * *

Ten minutes later, the group had all the information they needed. With him in the compartment was Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. They were quickly paired with a few unlucky victims, and then the preparations started.

Giselle stayed in the compartment, brewing up a simple love potion. She was surprisingly skilled at Potions, which was why the duty fell on her. Adora was sent to get a few strands of hair from Ginny, while Fred and George went for Cormac McLaggen. Malcolm stayed outside the compartment, making sure no outsiders could see what was happening.

Within an hour, they had devised a plan to slip the Slytherins the potion, which would take effect immediately after consumption. Giselle, who was wearing a large shirt with a tank top underneath, had been forced to remove the shirt, leaving her in a tank top and shorts. Her hair was up in a sleek high ponytail, and the little spots of acne on her face had been covered by some light makeup. In short, she had been transformed to look, well, sexy.

She made her way towards their victims' compartments, feeling extremely exposed, with the rest of the group in tow. the four little vials of lovotion clinked silently in her pocket. Behind her, a small argument between Fred, George and Adora had started.

"Why Ginny?" one of the twins complained.

"Because she's the only girl I know who can handle a guy on love potion," Adora snapped.

"What if he forces himself on her?" the other twin whined.

"Then she'll hex him into oblivion," Hissed Adora. "Now shut up."

After a moment, the second twin griped, "well then why Giselle?"

"Because she's the dancer, and if you're Malfoy, faced with a dancer and someone who knows first aid, which would you choose?"

Giselle shook of their squabbling, took a steadying breath and slowly slid open the door, poking her head in.

"Excuse me," she said in her most innocent voice. "Does anybody know where Draco Malfoy is?"

"That's me," said a boy with grey eyes and silver-blonde hair. "What do you want?"

"Oh, well I'm new, and got sorted into Slytherin this summer, so Headmaster Dumbledore told me to find you." she said, twirling a lock of her silky blonde hair between her fingers and tilting her head downwards, yet looking up at him with a small smile.

On the other side of the door, spying in from the sides, her friends were all shocked that innocent little Giselle could actually flirt. When did she learn to flirt?

* * *

Draco studied her, a small smirk forming on his face. Giselle worried the lock of hair she still held, twining it this way and that. Finally, he gave her a full blown arrogant smile and crooked his finger in a 'come hither' motion.

Mentally laughing at Draco's flirting tactics, Giselle obeyed his wishes and walked to stand right in front of him, making sure to give her hips a small sway, and jutting them to one side while she waited in front of him. He patted his legs, and she arched and eyebrow at him, but gave no questions as she settled on his lap.

Wiggling her bum a little, she got comfortable and rested her head on his shoulder, with one hand on his stomach while the other rested on her hip, barely brushing the fabric of his pants. He, on the other hand, had both arms around her waist and was reclining against his seat. They were the picture of a perfect Slytherin couple. Smirks adorning their faces, the girl acting like some sort of prostitute in a brothel while the guy was her client.

After a minute of purely physical flirting, she stretched up a little and whispered in Draco's ear.

"How about we play a little prank on those two?" she murmured huskily, pointing at Crabbe and Goyle, making sure to brush her lips lightly over his ears once or twice.

"What do you suggest?" Draco whispered back, his hand moving to rest on her lower back.

"I've got two vials of love potion in my pocket. It was supposed to be for my sister, but... She can wait," breathed Giselle, blowing her warm breath over the side of his face. "Now all I need is their hair."

So Draco had ordered Crabbe to check for the lady with the food trolley, and Goyle to get his cloak from his trunk. While their backs were turned, he ripped off a few strands of hair.

* * *

Meanwhile, Giselle felt the vials in her pocket. She pulled out the ones with two strands of thread tied on them, and quickly hid them behind her back. When Draco returned, she settled back on his lap as he handed her the hairs, Crabbe first then Goyle. When all the potions were settled, she offered to go out and buy some snacks and drinks for all of them.

After getting the food, she met her friends outside the compartment and they helped to pour the love potion. The two Pumpkin Pasties were for Crabbe and Goyle, one cup of pumpkin juice each for Draco and Pansy, while Giselle settled for Liquorice Wands.

She passed Crabbe and Goyle their foods, and settled down to wait. After a few bites, they started to look at each other, starry eyed. Then they started cuddling, kissing and whispering. Pansy gaped at them, bewildered, but when she caught sight of Draco and Giselle's huge grins, she caught on and her expression morphed into one that matched theirs.

* * *

"Ha! Good one," she cackled, before taking a swig of her pumpkin juice. "When will it - say, where's Cormac?"

"What?" shouted Draco.

"Cormac McLaggen. Isn't he just perfect?" Pansy sighed dreamily. Giselle did her best to hold in her snickers. She retied her hair, giving the signal. Some time later, Adora knocked on the door.

"Is there a Pansy Parkinson here? Cormac McLaggen wants to see you."

"Oh! Does he now? Oh, how wonderful!" Pansy gushed. "Giselle, do I look alright? Is my hair in a mess? I have to look perfect for my Cormac!"

"Of course you do, Pansy, you look beautiful," said Giselle, barely keeping her laughter under control. Without further ado, Pansy pushed past Adora and dashed down the train, squealing happily.

Draco stared after her, then looked down at Giselle, who smiled sweetly.

"Hey Crabbe, Goyle, get a room!" she snapped. The two boys shot her a dirty look before stalking out of the compartment, hand in hand. There was only her and Draco left.

"Now we've got this compartment all to ourselves," she said, smiling. "Well, for the next twenty minutes, at least."

"You little devil," said Draco, pulling her close. She held up his pumpkin juice, shooting him what she hoped was a seductive smile over the rim. It worked, as he picked up the goblet and drank. She transfigured Pansy's abandoned goblet into a white mouse and sent it scurrying away.

* * *

"What are you doing on my lap?" snarled Draco. "Only Ginny is allowed on my lap."

"I'm sorry Draco, I tripped and fell."

"Well don't do it again. Where's Ginny?"

"No idea."

"She's beautiful isn't she? Her hair looks like a wall of fire. A silky, nice smelling wall of fire."

"Yes, of course."

When she felt that her endurance of his lovesick rambling could stretch no further, the mouse came scurrying back in. Then one of the twins, probably George, came out of his hiding place.

"Look!" said Giselle. "It's her brother, maybe he knows where Ginny is."

Not a minute later, Draco was sprinting down the corridor, Fred and George hurrying behind.

* * *

Job done, Giselle skipped out of the compartment, grinning merrily. Her happiness, however, was short lived. Pansy Parkinson stormed towards her, looking absolutely livid. _That's odd, the potion for her doesn't wear off for another ten minutes. Crabbe and Goyle, however, will be feeling pretty disgusted by now._

"You said I looked beautiful!" she screamed in rage. "Cormac said I looked like a pig with its nose bashed in!"

_Oh. Stupid McLaggen. I'm going to make __**him**__ look like a pig with its nose bashed in, he just __**had**__ to ruin the prank. Cretin._

"Well you did look beautiful! Cormac needs his eyes checked!" Giselle shouted back in a state of slight panic. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to say in that situation, when she wasn't exactly thinking straight.

"Don't you insult my Cormac! You'll pay for that, you filthy rat! _Petrificus Totalus!"_ Giselle ducked, the jet of light narrowly missing her.

_"Rictusempra!" _

The spell had no effect on Pansy. _Damn it, why isn't that woman ticklish?_ Pansy sent a jinx her way, which Giselle deflected with a Shield Charm. At that moment, Malcolm came rushing back, shouting, "it's worn off! The potion's worn off! Crabbe and Goyle are coming!"

While her back was turned, Pansy shot another spell at her, and before she had time to react, Malcolm had barrelled into her, pushing her out of the way and onto the floor.

* * *

Fred jinxed Pansy, swallowing a bitter taste in his mouth, wishing he had been just a little bit faster. He quickly yanked Malcolm off Giselle, just in time to see George backing towards the group, he and Malfoy rapidly firing spells at each other.

"What happened?" Giselle asked.

"He was about to kiss Ginny, so we pulled him off," Fred muttered.

"And now he's pissed," concluded Giselle.

"And now he's pissed," Fred agreed.

Next came Adora, looking absolutely furious, then Crabbe and Goyle, who were confused at first, but then quickly joined in the fray. Giselle quickly took Pansy out with a Jelly-Legs Jinx, while Adora sent a Bat-Bogey Hex flying Goyle's way, closely followed by Fred's Expelliarmus to the head. Malcolm sent Crabbe flying with his Stunner, while George set Malfoy's robes on fire, then aimed a jet of water at him, knocking him over and into the compartment.

They levitated the three remaining Slytherins into the compartment, making sure to crash Crabbe and Goyle onto Malfoy. Feeling thoroughly pleased with themselves, they trooped back to their own compartment, spending the rest of the train ride relatively quietly. Teasing Giselle about flirting with Malfoy, then getting hexed to grow antlers, playing Exploding Snap and only stopping when Fred caught on fire, and playing with Snowdrop, who was scrambling up the seats, across the baggage compartment and onto George's head while chasing the white mouse.

"Dora, why did you look like you were gonna kill somebody when you joined us back there?" asked Giselle.

"McLaggen was trying to flirt with me."

This elicited wolf whistles and catcalls from the boys, while Giselle laughed and conjured up a sign that said 'McLaggen's Girlfriend' in big, curly letters, hanging it onto Adora's neck. The sign was promptly yanked off and burned, along with a threat to do the same to anyone else who kept continued the teasing.

* * *

After another two hours or so, the train pulled into the station, and the students filed out. The castle could be seen in the distance, a silhouette of grandeur, towers and turrets stretching majestically up to the sky. Golden lights were twinkling warmly, the castle seemingly shimmering and sparkling against the night sky.

First years, with the addition of Giselle, Adora and Malcolm gaped up at the castle in awe, while other students smiled up at it. Fred and George pulled them away, and towards the carriages.

"What's pulling them?" Adora asked.

"Dunno, magic I guess," said Fred. "You should ask Hagrid."

"Where is Hagrid?" George wondered out loud. "It was a woman shouting for the firsties back there - "

"And she's no half-giant," Fred completed.

"Hagrid's a half giant?" all three newcomers simultaneously exclaimed in shock.

"Yep," the twins answered.

There was a pregnant pause, broken by Malcolm.

"Cool!" he said, his eyes lighting up. The girls nodded animatedly in agreement.

"Ladies, your chariot awaits," Fred said, bowing low with much twirling of his hand.

George was already inside, waiting to pull the girls up. Adora flicked Fred's head as she passed, while Giselle yanked on George's hand, causing him to stumble off the carriage. Malcolm sniggered as the twins cursed, groaned and hauled themselves into the carriage.

"You wounded us!" George exclaimed dramatically.

"I think I'm bleeding!" Fred whined. "Adora, you're barbaric!"

"Yes, well, not to me," Malcolm piped up cheerily, getting into the carriage unscathed.

"Sod off," Fred muttered unhappily.

"Bloody show-off," George complained.

* * *

**A/N: Hi guys! I know, I've been dead here for quite a while, but hey, I HAVE REVIVED. Just in time for school to start, and for me to die again. Wonderful. Anyway, as it is with school, I'm gonna be neglecting this a little, so I apologise in advance. Please send any complaints to my teachers, including my dance teacher, who will start working us like a bunch of buffaloes once the competition date draws nearer.**

**Well, wish me luck. I heard the jump from sec 2 to sec 3 (14 to 15) syllabus is a pretty big. Oh god. Has anybody watched Les Miserables, by the way? Is it good?**

**Oh, and one more thing. REVIEW PLEASE, AND THANK YOU.**


	13. Hogwarts: Just The Beginning

A thousand or more candles illuminated the high ceiling of the Great Hall, casting a soft warm glow on the gaping first years who stood in a pack in the middle of the hall. Giselle felt sorely tempted to shrink herself to their heigh and join them. She, too, wanted to gape freely, but was already seated at the Gryffindor table and would have looked like she was trying to catch flies.

The rip in the brim of the sorting hat opened, and the monotonous buzzing of the students' chatter ceased. Giselle saw Adora turn away from one of her new friends mid sentence, and wished she had the same privilege. She was, technically, talking to some of the girls in her year, but she wasn't paying attention. They lost her five seconds after she knew their names, when hair curling or straightening spells became the hot topic of conversation.

_Magic for hair? Really? You can curl hair with socks, for goodness' sake, why misuse your wand like that? Cretins and bimbos, all of you._

"In times of old when I was new

And Hogwarts barely started"

Giselle's attention was quickly diverted to the hat's song, which she found much more meaningful than "Flirty Looks to Get Your Guy". Her mind wandered briefly to how contradictory the first line sounded - in times of old when I was new. She quickly shook the idle musing from her head slightly irritably. _There I go again,_ she thought. _Into literary nerd land_.

"For were there such friends anywhere

As Slytherin and Gryffindor?"

A cacophony of delirious snorts met this statement. Even Giselle found herself rolling her eyes at this. Though she had never felt the rivalry between the two houses herself, the propaganda back in Grimmauld Place made her fairly prejudiced against the Slytherins, especially since she was of the house of their sworn enemy, Gryffindor.

Frankly, though, she could see how the two rival houses could work together to achieve great results. Both had great skill in spells and potential to be highly successful, but with different ideals and traits, and methods of achieving success. Gryffindors would go about it the noble and fair way, or not try at all. Slytherins would prefer to do so too, but if they had to resort to underhanded methods, they would do so without much hesitation. While Gryffindors were rash, letting their emotions cloud thinking, Slytherins could keep a clear and cunning mind in all situations. They complimented each other well.

If the houses, particularly Slytherin and Gryffindor, were to cooperate, they would have to take care to maintain a precarious balance and compromise between the ideals of each house, which was why inter-house cooperation was a near impossible feat. And yet, if it were achieved, the students could do so much more than what was going on now - namely hair and skin care.

With a final ringing note, the rip in the brim of the hat closed, and the hall was silent for a few seconds, letting the message sink in. Then, slowly, the students started clapping, thought it was punctuated with mutterings and muted whispers. The hat, apparently, had never gone beyond stating the qualities of each house.

"The song's gone on quite a bit this year, hasn't it?" Fred said, turning to include Giselle in their conversation.

"There is a war coming. I suppose it's just giving us some advice, it has been around since the school was founded, I bet it knows more about winning wars than Dumbledore," she replied, wholly glad Fred had spoken to he when he did. She had seen, from the corner of her eye, one of the giggly girls form before turn towards her too.

"It has been around longer, but the age turned it a little batty, I reckon. Slytherin and Gryffindor, best mates? Impossible. Making us work together is just begging for a war declaration," he scoffed.

Giselle didn't say anything to argue, she knew it would be no use. The rivalry that neared hatred between Slytherin and Gryffindor were set too deep to be swayed by promises of greatness. Besides, with prats like Draco Malfoy around to annoy the stuffing out of any Gryffindor, she wasn't dying to collaborate with them either.

* * *

Food appeared, everyone tucked in, then the food disappeared to be replaced by desserts.

"I'm going to get fat here," Giselle said happily, before piling chocolate cake and cream puffs onto her plate. The bimbos beside her shot her disgusted looks and turned their noses up, much to her delight.

Busy fighting with Malcolm over the last bit of brownie, Giselle completely missed the speech-making until a sickly sweet, disgustingly high voice brought her head whirling to the front in horror, hoping that the owner of that voice wasn't one of her teachers.

"Thank you, Headmaster," she simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."

With a start, Giselle realised this was the horribly girlish woman at Harry's hearing. That Umburge or Umbridge or whatever.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!" Umbridge announced cheerfully, to the students that were offended by being spoken to as if they were babies.

Malcolm snorted in cynical amusement, while Fred and George muttered "that's likely" in doubly sarcastic sync. Giselle raised an eyebrow at the statement while Adora rolled her eyes. As Umbridge plowed on, her speech now sounding more memorised than it was sincere, the students' attention span finally ran out as they started chatting in among themselves. Soon, only Hermione was paying close attention, while Giselle caught snippets of it while talking to Malcolm and the twins.

Finally, the speech ended, and Umbridge sat down. Giselle immediately burst into relieved applause, which died down considerably when the rest of the school didn't respond with equal vigour.

"What?" she said in reply to Malcolm's questioning stare. " I was clapping because it was over."

* * *

The announcements were announced, and the students filed out of the great hall sleepily. Giselle and Malcolm followed Fred and George to the common room, where she flopped on the sofa and closed her eyes lazily, before shooting up.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, as of remembering something very important. "I've been meaning to ask you to teach me to play the guitar," she said to Malcolm. He stared at her and herhopeful expression, momentarily stunned at the random outburst.

"Um, yeah. Sure," he said in reply, but very slowly, as if fearing another eruption.

"Go get your guitar then, on the double!" she ordered happily, pushing him towards the boys' dormitories.

* * *

Later that night, Fred descended the steps from his room to be greeted by Malcolm sitting very close to Giselle, with her almost on his lap, while his arms went around hers, which were holding a large wooden instrument. He was saying something about sharp minors and flat majors, while holding her hands and plucking at the strings.

A bubble of jealousy welled up in the bottom of Fred's stomach, and burst forth in the form of him stalking over to the 'happy couple' and yanking Giselle up. He muttered something about taking her to explore the castle, then before she could protest, they were out of the portrait hole and roaming the corridors after hours.

With Giselle finally out of Malcolm's clutches, Fred relaxed considerably, whistling while taking her along the normal routes and a few secret passages to the various classes.

"And finally, this is the slimy, drafty, cesspool of a dungeon, which serves both as the home of the Slytherins and greasy old Snape's - what was that?" a slight scuffling sound brought his enthusiastic presentation to an abrupt end. A soft meow echoed through the corridor, and Fred's eyes widened in realisation. He motioned for Giselle to be quiet as he cautiously made his way around the corner, her following closely behind.

As they came to what seemed to be a dead end, a raspy, unpleasant voice could be heard. Fred whipped out his wand and tapped a few bricks in a sort of pattern, which caused a circular hole to appear in the wall. The voice was steadily getting closer. He shoved Giselle unceremoniously into the hole and quickly whispered instructions on how to get back to the common room before sealing it, just as Filch rounded the corner.

* * *

Hidden within the secret passage, Giselle could still hear whatever was going on outside. Filch, the widely disliked caretaker, had caught Fred, and was sending him to Umbridge. A rush of gratitude for Fred filled her heart, before a feeling of dread seeped in through the cracks. He was going to Umbridge. As disgusting as her choice in clothing was, Giselle had the sinking feeling that her methods of punishment were not quite as dismal as her fashion sense.

Still, she had to get back to the common room safely, so Fred would not have faced the toad for nothing. Crawling up the dark tunnel, she stubbornly pushed her hyperactive imagination aside, thinking not of ghost stories but of the warmth of the blazing fire in the common room.

Not long after, she stumbled through the portrait hole and into the comfort of what was to be her home for the next nine months or so. She was alone, though she wasn't surprised. Fred had led her around school for an hour or two, and she was exhausted. Yet she felt compelled to wait for him, to make sure he was okay, and that was exactly what she did.

* * *

A loud thump, followed by a stream of curses, brought Giselle jerking up from her slumber. She had fallen asleep on the sofa, and her back was paying for it generously. When she caught sight of Fred's slightly bloodied hand, however, her back was forgotten in favour of treating his wounds.

"Good God! What happened to your hand?" she asked.

"Scraped it on a wall on the way up," he grunted in response.

"Sit down, you old codger. I'll help you clean it up," she said.

"No, it's alright, I'll just do it myself. No really - "

Ignoring his protests, Giselle forced Fred onto the couch and with the threat of petrifying him if he went up to his room while she was gone, she dashed up to the girls' dorms to grab a bowl of warm water, a cloth and some bandages.

She returned five minutes later and knelt down in front of him, taking his injured hand and dabbing away the excess blood until she could see the wound clearly. They looked oddly like...

"Words? Are these words on your hand? What are you, emo?" she half shouted in outrage.

"They're nothing really, just wrap them up, will you?" Fred whined, trying to pull her back down.

"What did Umbridge do to you?" Giselle demanded.

"It's nothing, I - I'll tell you tomorrow morning. Just wrap it up, it hurts more when I can see it."

She cast him a suspicious glance, but washed the cloth again and pressed it to his hand. The bleeding didn't stop after ten minutes, which was when she knew something was wrong.

"You are telling me about this tomorrow," she said sternly. He cast her a pained look, but nodded reluctantly. "And don't do the 'save the women and children' thing again. The least I can do is get in trouble with you."

"Not if I can help it," Fred murmured in a barely audible whisper.

Giselle looked up to shoot him a disapproving glare, but her reprimand died in her throat when Fred's intense gaze held her eyes captive in the depths of his own. The warm pools of chocolate brown seemed to get bigger, until they were all she could see, smouldering with some emotion she couldn't place. She suddenly felt his breath brushing against her face, and her eyes started to close.

"Gis, I - "

The sound of his voice, though barely more than a sound carried softly by the wind, broke the precariously spun spell. She jerked backwards, avoiding eye contact for fear of her being enchanted yet again. She couldn't let him get too close, not in that way. It was far too dangerous. She hadn't even been in a romantic relationship before, yet had been so badly affected by them anyway. She couldn't imagine the pain she would have to go through if she experienced heartbreak firsthand.

Her gaze shifted worriedly to his hand as she did so, which was still resting lightly upon her palm. She suddenly wished that she could take some of the wound upon herself - it was her fault, after all, that he had been caught. For a short moment, she tried to do so, willing the scratches in his skin to appear on hers.

Then, without warning, a sharp pain blossomed in the back of her left palm. A sentence appeared on it, glistening with blood for just a moment, before it healed, leaving nothing but a few drops of crimson liquid. At the same time, the words on Fred's hand glowed slightly before vanishing, looking as pale and unblemished as it did at the start of the day.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"I don't know. It just happened," she whispered in amazement. Then, as if coming out from a trance, her tone became firm again.

"Go to sleep, I expect an explanation first thing tomorrow," she said. Her expression then softened and she moved towards him a little, as if to tell him something important, thought she didn't know what to say herself. Suddenly, she yanked herself back, thinking better of it. With a soft "take care" and a tender brush of her hand across his shoulder, she rose from the sofa and retreated towards the girls' dormitories staircase.

* * *

Fred ascended the steps to his room, looking back just in time to catch sight of Giselle doing the same. He had come so close to revealing his feelings, it was the perfect situation. They were about to kiss, he knew it. The room had melted away, and he had been a few words away from telling her about it, about how much he liked her.

What happened? She had suddenly pulled away when he spoke. But still, he had kept his volume down to a minimum... She was supposed to say "I like you too" and then kiss him, but instead she jerked away. Was he supposed to just kiss her and talk later? Somehow, that didn't seem like the right thing do to. Besides, when would he get the same perfect circumstances again? She would be more guarded against it happening again, he could see it in her eyes after the moment vanished. But why? Didn't all girls want some sort of fairytale romance? But then again, she wasn't exactly in the category of 'all girls'.

With a final shake of his cluttered head, he pushed open the door and fell onto his bed. Giselle was full of secrets, some of which she didn't know of herself. She was a mystery, but one that he would solve, one way or another. The poor boy didn't know what he had signed himself up for. In terms of secrets and surprises, this was just the beginning - for himself and for Hogwarts.

* * *

**A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back from the dead! Alright, first and foremost I would like to thank all of you for waiting for this chapter, I know I've been MIA recently but you can blame school for that. Anyway, especially to those that have just recently followed, thank you so much, I think I would have slacked for another month or so before getting down to it.**

**Well, you know the drill for the rest, reviews and feedback are much appreciated, please and thank you. A word of warning though: this year is crazy, so I really won't be able to update much.**


	14. Screwed, Sassy and Seething

The cookie came nearer and nearer. She could smell it, she could see each individual crumb, she could hear it calling to her -

"Wake up, Giselle, do you want to be late for class?"

"murrrgh..."

Despite the slight disruption, the cookie drew steadily nearer, the sweet scent of chocolate and vanilla permeating the air. it was within her grasp, all she had to do was -

"Wake UP, before you miss breakfast!"

"DAMN IT HERMIONE I WAS ABOUT TO GET THAT COOKIE!"

All Giselle got in return for her sacrifice was a dignified sniff and a head of bushy brown hair. Grumbling and ranting under her breath, she did her usual morning routine. As she changed into her new uniform, a wave of nostalgia hit her. It was possible she would never wear her white blouse and pleated skirt again. While she did hate ironing that damned thing, cursing the idiot who designed the skirts was a defining aspect of her school life, one that she would miss not-so-dearly. She sighed and looked at the red and yellow tie hanging on her neck. Trying to get it into an acceptable shape would undoubtedly be an uphill battle.

Not long after, Giselle stumbled into the common room, still fumbling with the now-tangled mess of fabric that was supposed to be the square shaped knot thing that everyone, except for herself, seemed to know how to make.

"Can anybody help me with this thing?" she asked.

"Here, let me," a familiar, yet uncharacteristically serious voice answered. Her head snapped up, her eyes meeting with the same ones that bewitched her the night before. As Fred took a step closer, her body tensed and went on high alert. _Not good. Not good at all. Find a way out, you dumbass! Quickly!_

Looking around, she spotted another head of flaming red hair. This one, however, was not shaggy and sort-of-long but flowing all the way down to the owner's waist.

"No - " when her voice came out in a breathy whisper, she mentally facepalmed. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "No, um, I think - I think Ginny would be a, um, better er... Better person to ask? Being the same gender and all. Maybe she could tell me a less masculine way to tie it? Yeah, I mean girls can't wear the exact same style of tie as the guys, we would look ridiculous! I'll just... Yeah, bye!"

Ginny, ever the good and loyal friend, dutifully helped her with the tie - though not without questions about her and Fred. Giselle managed to evade these by asking her to repeat the previous actions.

"So what's going on between you and Fred? You were so comfortable with him yesterday, now you're all awkward."

"What? Nothing, that's just your imagination. Hey, could you do that again? I didn't catch it."

_Pathetic,_ her sarcastic and cynical side taunted. _Absolutely pathetic._

_Oh whatever, just shut up!_

Her excuse for running away was also invalid. The tie was done in the exact same fashion as the boys and everyone else in the school.

* * *

Breakfast passed without many problems, unless you counted Fred tracking her down wherever she was and making her scurry back and forth between Adora, Malcolm and Harry & Friends.

Classes were, for lack of a better term, different. It was undeniably odd to be learning about the giant wars of 1247 instead of Adolf Hitler and his anti-Jew movement, or cheesy propaganda promoting the barely-existent perks of Singapore, like baby bonuses and airport safety. While one would think that learning about giants bashing each other with clubs and boulders should have been much more entertaining than reading up on David Marshall, the way Professor Binns taught it made her wish she was back in Singapore writing some lie about why she loved her country.

Potions was, to put it nicely, more interesting. Professor Snape was every bit as nasty and greasy as her friends had described. He started the class with a barely veiled threat about the OWLs, an examination that the fifth years had to take, then assigned them a ridiculously complicated brew that involved painfully precise heating, stirring and measurements.

Miraculously, Giselle found that if she ignored the damp dungeon and Snape's menacing footsteps, the potion wasn't all that bad. She just had to imagine she was brewing a simple Infatuation Elixir to prank a couple of idiots. The salamander venom was just mistletoe juice, and the grey-green mandrake leaves were actually shimmering, gossamer-thin dragonfly wings.

Soon enough, she had finished her potion, which was emitting some sort of silvery blue mist that made her feel a little sleepy. Snape, who had just finished bullying Harry, prowled towards her just as she was scooping some out to put into a vial and looked over her shoulder.

"Done already, Miss Chia?" he asked condescendingly

"Yes sir," said Giselle, listening closely for any tricks or threats.

"You are certain you have completed all the steps?" Snape sneered.

"Yes sir." she replied stiffly.

"And you can confidently test this on one of your classmates?" he drawled. There it was. The trick.

"With all due respect, sir, won't it be a little dangerous? I'm don't pretend to be an expert."

"If you have followed all the instructions carefully like you claimed to, then I see no reason as to why the drinker should not be perfectly fine."

She felt her back hit a metaphorical corner. She couldn't say no, not when he was basically ordering her to test it on someone. On one hand, she was sure she had brewed the potion correctly. It matched the description of an acceptable, non life-threatening potion fairly accurately. Still, one could never be too sure, especially in Snape's class.

Left with no choice, Giselle nodded her head stiffly, praying that whatever happened to the test subject had no negative, long lasting effects.

"Potter," Snape barked. "You will be testing Miss Chia's potion next lesson, after you dunderheads attempt to brew the antidote. The rest of you, hand in your samples for grading. Class dismissed."

The tension in the air lifted considerably when she filed out of the classroom with Malcolm and the trio.

"Has that ever happened before? The testing, I mean," Malcolm asked.

"Yeah," said Ron. "But it was on Trevor that time. Neville's toad. Never on a person. Snape must really have it in for you, Giselle."

"Thank you Ronald, that was so comforting," she snapped sarcastically in reply.

"Cut it out, it's Umbridge next. We'll be late if you two keep going at each other," Harry grumbled.

"Somehow, I don't see why that's a bad thing," said Giselle, earning snorts from the boys and a smack from Hermione.

* * *

Defence Against the Dark Arts was the worst lesson by far. That toad of a woman told them to read from the textbook for the whole lesson. Read from the textbook that was obviously meant for idiots with no properly functioning brain cells, like Crabbe and Goyle. It was the most boring thing she had ever laid her eyes on, including Shakespeare's Julius Caesar and her father's legal papers. Five minutes, or three pages, into class, she found herself zoning off into the land of rainbow unicorns and golden tomatoes. Then she realised that Hermione had her hand stubbornly stuck in the air, which Umbridge was ignoring with equal vigour.

Under usual circumstances, she would have simply dismissed the occurrence, but this was not 'usual circumstances'. She was bored out of her mind, and dying for any form of entertainment, even if it was a cold war between student and teacher. So she watched with morbid interest, as did the rest of the class. Finally, Umbridge cracked and responded to Hermione's insistent hand, which quickly escalated into a heated debate between her and the dismayed students, who had just found out they were not going to have any practical lessons.

"Detention, Mr Potter!" she shouted after a particularly nasty argument with Harry. Then she sent him to Professor Mcgonagall with a disgusting pink note.

"That is utterly unfair!" Giselle shouted from her seat.

"Your hand is not up, Miss Chia!" Umbridge shrilly announced in retort.

"I don't give a damn about your twisted rules that are fit for mentally retarded toddlers! You haven't had any valid, reasonable arguments against our requests to have practical lessons, and when someone points out the strongest argument, the threat of Voldemort, you send him to detention and his head of house," Giselle yelled.

"We have no proof that there is a threat, Miss Chia," said Umbridge.

"We do, actually. The Diggory dude. He decided to spontaneously fall stone dead on the ground, did he? Or do you have medical evidence to prove that he had an aneurism, and therefore died a sudden death of natural causes?"

"I will not tolerate lies and made up technical terms in my class, Miss Chia. There is no such thing as annual-isms!"

"Do some research on muggle medicine then, because there is. It's one of the most well known causes for sudden death. The only evidence you have against Harry's claim is the Ministry."

"And what is wrong with that?"

"Because Diggory died under a tournament approved and organised by the Ministry, under Ministry protection, and the watch of Ministry officials. If someone died when the Ministry was so involved, I wouldn't exactly trust it enough to put my life in danger by not making sure I know how to use defensive spells."

"Detention, Miss Chia. Tonight, at eight."

"I look forward to it, Professor."

With one last flick of her ponytail, Giselle turned her back on Umbridge, gathered her things, and stalked haughtily out of the classroom.

* * *

Dinner rolled by, Giselle once again avoiding Fred as if he was a carrier of the Black Plague. Eight o'clock came much too soon for her liking. Despite the mask of indifference she wore, she was actually dreading the detention. What would happen there? Umbridhe wouldn't actually make students carve words on their hands, would she? _Well,_ _you'll find out soon enough._

She reached her destination within ten minutes. The Defence teacher's office was far too close to the Gryffindor common room for Giselle's liking. Only halfway across the castle? Really?

Her hand was poised in front of the door, as it had been for the past few minutes. It was frozen there, unwilling to move just that little bit and knock on the door. _Be Macbeth for a while,_ she thought to herself.

"Screw your courage to the sticking-point, and we'll not fail," she whispered softly. _Look where that line got Macbeth. He was beheaded,_ the cynical voice in her head sneered. Ignoring it, she pushed down her gut feeling to run away and forced her hand to rap on the door thrice.

"Come in," the fake voice that raised goosebumps on her arms answered.

Harry was already there, writing lines. The colour of the ink he used was strange, though. It was red. She hadn't seen Harry using red ink before. Was it his detention ink or something? Why would he buy it anyway? It was a horrible colour, it looked like blood.

* * *

Blood. Crimson blood covered the parchment, and not in messy blotches but in lines and lines of letters, that spelled "I must not talk back". Giselle's hand was throbbing badly, the scratches on it taking longer and longer to heal with each word she wrote.

_Stupid, sadistic old hag. That woman should be sent to the loony-bin_.

No matter how much she cursed and swore and damned Umbridge to hell in her head, no sound escaped her lips. Or vocal cords, for that matter. She was absolutely silent throughout the whole thing. _Show no signs of weakness, especially not to this old crackpot._

Finally, Umbridge told them to stop writing. After examining their hands, which Giselle found thoroughly repulsive, she let them go.

Giselle took deep breaths of fresh, non perfumed air once her nose left the vicinity of hell's resident house bunny. Her eyes feasted on the plain grey walls and dangerous looking torches, revelling in the sheno severity of it all. After recovering from her temporarily amplified insanity, she turned to her companion, the famous (not that anyone bothered to tell her until one of the bimbos let it slip) Harry Potter.

"Are you gonna tell anyone about this?" Giselle asked Harry.

"No, are you?" he said.

"Probably not," she answered. "I wasn't sure before, so I decided to just go with what you would do."

* * *

With a frustrated sigh, Malcolm flopped down onto the sofa for the fifth time that night. He picked up his guitar and strummed a few chords of the song he was learning. It was the song for one of Giselle's favourite dances. She showed it to him the day her dance teacher picked her to dance in it. She was ecstatic and jumping around all day. He had been learning and practicing it lately, after he realised that his feelings for her weren't just platonic.

The fact still vexed him, though he admitted to it even before she went to Britain. He had known her since they were twelve, when she was the new kid in Children's Church. They didn't talk much then, only becoming friends when they were thirteen, after she helped him get his guitar pick out of the hollow under the strings. He had seen her grow up quite a bit, and fill out considerably. But when did he start liking her, well, romantically? He didn't know, it was a strange concept.

Voices from the other side of the portrait hole alerted him to people coming in. It swung open, revealing Giselle and Harry. Malcolm greeted Harry, saying he would go up to their room later, then went straight to Giselle.

"You alright? You look a little shaken," he said.

"Just tired. First days aren't really good for my system, especially not when you throw in a detention," replied Giselle.

"Well, just remember to take care of yourself," said Malcolm. "I've got something for you, by the way."

He sat back down on the sofa and picked up his guitar, strumming the opening chords that had become to familiar to him. Then he started singing the Chinese words he had taken so long to learn and memorise accurately, eliciting a small squeal of happiness from Giselle.

When he was finished and his guitar put safely aside, she lunged towards him and engulfed him in a huge hug.

"That was wonderful, I didn't even know you could play it on the guitar! You have to teach me, make it the first song I learn after the basics, oh I can't - "

"Giselle?"

Malcolm reluctantly let Giselle pull away and turn towards the source of interruption. It was Fred, standing at the foot of the boys' staircase, his hands stuck in the pockets of his pyjama pants and a serious, slightly hurt yet hopeful expression on his face.

* * *

After dinner, Fred had taken to staking out the common room, in hopes of catching Giselle. She had been avoiding him all day, and was extremely uncomfortable in the morning. The only time he had spoken to her, and it turned out disastrous.

While waiting, he formulated new products, played nine rounds of exploding snap, even finished his homework, but still no Giselle. Finally, under George's influence, he had retired to his room and gotten ready for bed, with hopes of being able to talk to her the next morning.

Still, he was sick with worry, finding it hard to sleep. While George was long gone, Fred was tossing and turning under the covers. A squeal had alerted him to something happening downstairs, and he went down to check it out. The sight had him feeling a sort of squeeze in his chest, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling. Giselle was back, and hugging Malcolm. He had to do something, he couldn't stand seeing them so close. Besides, he needed to talk to her.

"Giselle?"

Her face told him all he needed to know. The wariness and slight panic - it was obvious she didn't want to see him. The knowledge sent a little pang through Fred's heart, yet there was still a small possibility she might listen. They were friends after all. Giselle wouldn't let friends go so easily.

"We need to talk," said Fred.

"Yeah, we do," said Giselle. Fred look pointedly at Malcolm, who got the hint and went upstairs, leaving them alone.

"You've been avoiding me," he said, letting some of the hurt come out in his tone.

"Yes," she replied. Her short, matter-of-fact statement made him angry. She had put him through the pain of not being sure of whether or not they were still friends, and all she had to say was 'yes'?

"Why?" he asked.

"I didn't want to talk to you... About last night," she said.

"But now you do?"

"Now I'm ready."

"Then tell me - could you give us a chance? I like you Giselle, I really do, and not just as a friend."

"No."

Another pregnant pause followed her short answer. Fred didn't know what to say - she had just rejected him. Flat out. There was no gentle 'maybe one day' or 'I'm sorry, I just can't see you that way'. It was just a blunt, straightforward no. Almost a deadpan. Somehow, it was so very fitting for her. She was never one for frills and lace. He should have known that he wouldn't be let down easy.

Still, some form of hope clung to the recesses of his heart. Some part of him was insisting she was just joking. Her deadpans were always jokes. He could almost see her burst out laughing and take it all back, say that yes, of course she liked him, idiot. But nothing like that followed. Nothing followed, except for a lengthy silence.

"I'm sorry Fred, I just can't," she said, her tone almost pleading. _There it is,_ he thought bitterly. _The hurriedly made up explanation._ "I wish I could, but I don't dare to risk it. I don't even know how to deal with this, how am I supposed to handle a breakup?"

Fred couldn't help but smirk dryly at her last statement. It was just so Giselle to try to dilute the rejection with a bit of humour at her own expense. Still, it was too little, too late.

"Can we just put this behind us and go back to normal?" she asked.

"No," said Fred. "I was serious when I said I like you. I'm going to try and get you to return it, no matter what it takes. Harry's dad did the same thing, didn't he? He married the girl in the end. I'm betting the faster I try to get the girl, the faster I do get her. Or you."

"Fred, please, don't do that."

"Too late, I start tomorrow. Just don't avoid me anymore, I'll always be your friend before anything. Come on Gis, give me a chance to have a chance," he begged, barely hiding his plea in a bad joke.

Giselle stopped and looked him in the eye for the first time that night. He stared back, taking in the mix of dark, rich colours that reminded him of velvet. So dark that it was almost black, so soft that it felt like silk, simply thicker, warmer, richer. He saw the emotions flash by one by one as she contemplated his words.

Finally, two of them settled in her eyes. The two that he didn't want to see. A cold, steely determination with a hint of regret, mixing together into a hard, unyielding cement that blocked the world out.

"Goodnight, Fred," she said, turning away and climbing up the stairs. He sighed, dejected. I shouldn't have done that, she got so freaked out over last night, I should've known she wouldn't accept this. His self-rebuke fell on deaf ears, though, because a grim sense of satisfaction fought through his disappointment. At least he could act as he wanted around her, since there werent any secrets. As he pulled himself off the sofa, a small voice floated over his ears.

"Sweet dreams."

A huge goofy grin broke out on his face, the heavy, hopeless feeling instantly dissipating into thin air. He had a chance at having a chance.

His feeling of triumph, however, was cut short when Malcolm descended the steps.

"You like her," the younger boy stated.

"So do you," Fred replied. Both sentences weren't accusations, they were statements. They both accepted the competition.

"I've been her friend longer. She would trust me more, you know," said Malcolm.

"I know. But I've already put my stand out there. That gives me a better chance too," Fred countered.

"So what do we do now?"

"We do it the way every respectable man does it."

"What, fight for her?"

"The man gets her to go on a date with him first wins. Deal?"

"Deal."

"No deal." A cold voice rang out in the almost empty common room. The two boys turned to see a furious Giselle at the foot of the stairs, glaring at them. All traces of the tenderness she had shown just a few minutes ago was gone.

"I am not a prize to be won. You do realise that while it is flattering, this childish competition of yours has just completely blown your chances of ever going out with me. Good night, and don't even try to talk to me again."

Giselle snatched her book from the table in front of the sofa, and, with an air of finality, swept back up the stairs and out of sight.

Both boys stared dumbly after her, feeling a sense of dread set in. As much as they wanted to have Giselle as a girlfriend, they needed her as a friend. But now she wasn't, and the only way to get her back was to work together.

"Now what?" asked Malcolm.

"We make a new plan," said Fred, his trademark scheming-in-progress grin spreading across his face. They both knew what it meant. Challenge accepted.

* * *

**A/N: Hello hello everybody! It's Chinese New Year, or Lunar New Year, whichever you prefer! So that means I have the weekend plus three days to do less homework than usual. Plus, I get loads of yummy unhealthy stuff to eat. How does this relate to you? BECAUSE I AM HAPPY AND FREE AND THAT MEANS YOU GET A NEW CHAPTER! **

**There was absolutely no link and reasoning behind the last few lines. Good thing I'm not taking history anymore :D so, please review. I mean really guys. You must have some opinion about what you read. Unless you're robots, which would be scary. REVIEW. TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK. LET ME SUCK YOUR VIEWS FROM YOUR BRAINS. OR HARD DRIVES. OR MEMORY CARDS. WHATEVER. JUST REVIEW. **


	15. Strawberries in the Forbidden Forest

Upon waking up the next morning, Giselle found that it wasn't time to get up yet. She stretched luxuriously on her soft bed, stroking Snowdrop and daydreaming until she got bored and decided to seize the opportunity to enjoy the rare morning shower. After that was done, she fell on her bed in just a towel, wondering what to do at the crack of dawn on a school day. Why, give the boys a rude awakening, of course!

_No, wait, the boys were being idiots and fighting over you yesterday. You can't just stroll in and dump water on them... Pity. Well, what a rude awakening. _

Thinking about her friends or friends-on-probation made her feel depressed, so she put a band-aid over a bullet wound and moved on to more important matters, like putting something over her birthday suit. Underwear would be a good start. Once she slipped on her dark grey sweater, the boredom set in again.

Considering she couldn't do much without waking her roommates, she went down to the common room to practice a few spells or do homework, which had her occupied until Fred, or George - who counted for both twins anyway, they were stuck at the hip - went down. An awkward staring match ensued, before Giselle cleared her throat loudly, collected her things and went looking for Adora. Soon enough, the story of last night was told and they were both ranting about the idiots that were boys, or males in general.

Breakfast was much better than it had been yesterday, probably because Adora was giving the stink eye to Malcolm and Fred whenever they came within six feet of Giselle. She was also introduced to a sixth year girl called Carmen, who was extremely friendly. And homosexual. A bit of a shock, but no matter.

Then it was lessons, which she spent working alone or with the only roommate who wasn't obsessed with looks. Except for Hermione, of course. She was called Cleopatra, or just Cleo, because her mother had been quite hooked on that Egyptian lady when she was born. They had bonded over laughing about their mother's ridiculous fads that led to their ridiculous names.

During Transfiguration, however, Malcolm was struggling horribly with the Vanishing Spell, his snail hadn't even begun to look the least bit off colour, and Giselle could tell that Mcgonagall wasn't exactly happy about it.

"Don't jab your wand like that, just give it a bit of a tap," she said, making sure to keep her tone exasperated and short.

"Are you talking to me now?" Malcolm asked in an unnaturally chirpy voice. He was greeted with a stony silence and a view of Giselle's snail, which gave one last panicked wriggle and vanished. No, she wasn't talking to him yet, and no, he still wasn't forgiven. She just couldn't let him die there without helping. It was a reflex.

The next few days passed in the same fashion. She would have breakfast with a roommate or Adora, then go to class and do her best to ignore Malcolm, who seemed to always be able to get a seat near her. Then he would struggle with something, usually in Potions or Transfiguration, and she would help him with some curtly whispered instructions.

Malcolm seemed to notice the pattern, for he suddenly started to be unable to do anything in any of the classes they had together - even Charms, which he was usually much better at than her. Giselle, upon noticing that he had noticed, tried to ignore him, but her will crumbled after one particularly nasty lesson where Snape failed his Fire Protection Potion and had him write an essay on the properties of Salamander Skin and it's uses in various potions. She rushed out a list of important points for him during lunch and slipped it into his textbook for Defence Against the Dark Arts when he wasn't looking, making sure to leave no sign that she had written it, even going to the extent of paying a third year to write it for her so that he wouldn't recognise the handwriting

Still, he slipped a note to her during dinner, which said 'Thanks' with a smiley face at the end. Adora laughed loudly at her disgruntled face, patting her on the back condescendingly.

"You're just too nice. And predictable."

"Thanks so much. That was such an obscure conclusion, I wouldn't have been able to come up with it without you."

* * *

In the meantime, over at the Gryffindor table, Malcolm was busy telling Fred and George about Giselle's softhearted tendencies and devising their plan.

"So she just... Can't help helping you when you get into trouble?" Fred asked sceptically.

"Yes. Or if she doesn't, then she'll help to deal with whatever happens after," Malcolm said, flashing the list of salamander skin properties, with which potions made use of that property on the side.

Personally, he couldn't see what was so unbelievable about it. She was an extremely helpful person with an overdeveloped sense of guilt, of course she would see his 'Dreadful' potion and the essay that came with as her fault for not helping him - not that she had to in the first place.

"That is very helpful - " said George, rubbing his chin in thought.

"Very helpful indeed," Fred finished, imitating the motion, making Malcolm feel like he was going crazy. He hated it when the twins did that. After a few minutes of scheming, they both cracked into perfectly synchronised Cheshire Cat grins.

"We've got it!" they shouted at the same time. Very loudly, in fact. The chatter in the Great Hall stopped for a second, everyone turning to stare at them, with their fists on the table and a triumphant 'eureka' expression on their faces. Malcolm fought the urge to facepalm when he saw Giselle looking at them with suspicion written all over her face. She was oblivious, but not that oblivious. He silently prayed for some form of greeting from her, maybe a smile, but she turned back, without acknowledging him at all, as if she didn't know him, and he was just another student in the Great Hall, albeit one who was making a scene.

He felt a twinge in his left rib and let out a huff of frustration, disappointment and general displeasure.

_Why wouldn't she just forget about it? _

_Because you were an idiotic prat and the image of a person that looks down on women, competing over her like she's a piece of meat._

Turning back to look at Giselle, he found her actions extremely graceful, as of she were performing on stage. He knew that forced daintiness. She adopted that only when she was felt like she was being judged, to fake indifference. Still, her faking was always very real.

"Look at her!" he whispered furiously, jerking his heads towards Giselle. "She isn't going to come within ten feet of us, not even with a twenty foot pole!"

"Aww, is ickle Malcolm worried our plan isn't going to work?" Fred cooed patronisingly. "Please enlighten him, George."

"We're the Weasley Twins, Malcolm. Weasleys always succeed, with the exceptions of Ron and Percy. We've got the Weasley power, doubled. Our plans always work."

* * *

Two tables down, Giselle's eyes narrowed with suspicion. Malcolm and the twins were planning something, she was sure of it.

"They're up to something," she said.

"Obviously. That's the Weasley twins you're talking about, they are always up to something," Adora scoffed.

"You know what I'm talking about," Giselle shot back, exasperated.

"Yes, well, that's even more obvious. You were almost their best friend, of course they're going to try and get you back. Not to mention Fred and Malcolm are practically drooling after you. Anyone would be plotting something, but this is a combination of the evil twins and Malcolm we're talking about. You better be careful if you're really going to cut all ties."

"That's obvious too."

"Life is too full of obvious statements."

As they spun off into a conversation about the most obvious scientific discoveries in the world, Giselle couldn't help but think of Adora's last few words. Did she really want to ignore Fred and Malcolm forever? Sure, they were idiots, but they were her idiots. Not that she would make it so easy for them. They weren't the only people who could scheme.

That night, Giselle slaved away in the common room, ignoring the raucous laughter of younger students who didn't have OWLs, and therefore did not have an overload of homework when it was still the start of the year. Her moonstone essay for Potions was almost done. In fact, it was 'finished' quite some time ago, but she surpassed the two foot benchmark and was now somewhere along two and a half feet.

Various potions books from the library were strewn around in a circle, all open to a page about moonstones. Her eyes darted back and forth between them, looking for any extra information she could use and cross referencing everything before pressing her quill tip (she much preferred them to pens) to the parchment and scribbling out a sentence. She wrote out a conclusion, categorising moonstone properties into a few large categories, then snapped the books shut and slipped the parchment into her bag, making sure not to crumple it. She was determined to impress Snape, mainly because he was the hardest to impress.

"Blimey, you're done already?" Ron exclaimed, staring at her two foot nine essay incredulously.

"Yes, Ronald. It's called focusing, you should try it sometime," she replied, looking pointedly at his doodles on the textbook.

"But - but you wrote so much! How the bloody hell d'you write so much?"

"Try using library books and not just the textbook," said Giselle, rolling her eyes. "And no, you cannot copy my essay."

To Ron's dismay and Hermione's delight, she pushed the pile of books towards him.

Next, she produced another set of books from under her chair, this time on Care of Magical Creatures. After she flipped the books to the right pages, (displaying pictures of bowtruckles from different angles and detailed drawings of their various body parts, complete with labels and a description) she pulled out a roll of parchment and sighed. She hated drawing.

After an hour or so, she finally finished the head and shoulders, and was working on the arm-like forelegs in pencil, before outlining the sketch with her quill when she was satisfied. In her little bubble and dead to the outside world, she jumped violently when Hermione slammed her book on the table and strode over to the twins, who were, she realised, standing in the middle of limp, unconscious first-years.

Hermione told them off fiercely, ending with the threat of writing to Mrs Weasley. The common room was deathly quiet at this point, all the inhabitants watching the scene intently. All except Giselle, of course, who let out a small laugh at the thought of the twins cowering under Mrs Weasley, who hadn't been stern with her at all, unless it was to make her eat extra servings of bacon and eggs. She was more than aware of Mrs Weasley's unpleasant side of course, but the image of the mischievous, bordering on malicious twins whimpering in fear while their mother held a pan of bacon was ludicrous.

Strangely, her giggle caught the common room's attention more effectively than Hermione did, causing even her and the twins to stop and stare. Unaccustomed to the sudden spotlight, Giselle dropped her gaze, feeling a blush colour her cheeks. Finally, the chatter and buzz of the common room resumed. Satisfied that she wasn't the centre of attention anymore, she looked up - to find a pair of dazzling brown eyes capture her own. She didn't even know how he did it, that sort if intensity was almost Dumbledore-esque.

* * *

What she didn't know was that her eyes were doing the same thing. Fred found himself enraptured by the reflection of the fire in her eyes. The orange and red flickered against her almost-black, making them shine with an ethereal light. He felt himself offer a smile, and saw her lips lift the slightest bit before their silent interaction shattered. Her face hardened and her eyes narrowed before she turned sharply on her toes and stalked back to the table.

Fred sighed, dejected. Yes, they had a plan, but rejection still stung, no matter how gently put it was. And in this case, it was as about gentle as a boulder falling to the ground from a cliff, his spirits being the ground the boulder crashed on. George came up behind him, giving him a bracing slap on the back.

"Don't worry mate. Once that bugger Malcolm learns to fly properly, we can give the plan a shot."

"Yeah I know, so we better get his lazy arse off that sofa and onto the quidditch pitch, eh?"

Sporting identical maniacal grins, the two tall, stocky redheads marched towards Malcolm, pulled him up by his armpits and, ignoring his shouts of protest, marched him down to the quidditch pitch for another exhaustive flying lesson.

* * *

Friday was uneventful, except for the quidditch tryouts. Apparently Ron had been made keeper, and there was a small party to celebrate the formation of a new team. Fred and George sloshed butterbeers everywhere and danced like maniacs in front of the fire while the quidditch fans joined in the festivities. Hermione and Giselle, however, were huddled together at a table. Hermione was knitting, and Giselle was sketching the last of her bowtruckle and labelling the parts.

Saturday was a lazy day for her, having finished most of her homework. She woke up around noon and lazed around, getting a ball of yarn and enchanting it to fly around the common room for Snowdrop to chase. She laughed as the black kitten raced around the common room, jumping onto people's laps in pursuit of the yarn. After Snowdrop seemed pretty tired, she slowed the ball down and let it hover just out of its reach, so it jumped and grabbed the ball between it's teeth and trotted back happily, plopping on Giselle's lap and purring.

Out of nowhere, a boy from her year whose name she had forgotten appeared in front of her.

"What sort of cake do you like?" he asked.

"What?"

"Just answer the question, will you?"

"Chocolate."

Then he walked away. Bewildered, Giselle kept an eye on him for a while, to see him join a group of boys who laughed and slapped him on the back. It was probably just a silly dare, those boys are just too bored.

All day long, she had people run up to her and ask her what her favourite kind of food was. There was a Ravenclaw prefect, who was doing a survey so that the house elves in the kitchens would cook food that the students preferred to minimise wastage. Then there was Ginny, who wanted her opinion on what sweets she enjoyed, but why would she want to get into Dumbledore's office? There was even a little second year girl who wanted to buy a dessert for a boy she fancied, but didn't know what to get.

Around four, when she was exploring the castle grounds with Adora, she noticed the twins running around with what looked like picnic baskets, heading towards the forbidden forest. When she pointed it out, Adora just laughed and said something about the twins not being right in the head, then asked, just out of curiosity, what fruits she liked the most.

Then, when they parted ways, she heard Adora mutter something like "I knew she liked strawberries." It was all very strange, the food-related questioning, but she didn't mind. How could it be harmful anyway?

Before she went for dinner, one of her roommates, Lavender, stopped her.

"Mcgonagall told us that the Minister of Magic is coming in to check in on us, and have a talk with Dumbledore, so we've got to dress a little nicer for dinner," she said in a rush, looking excited. Odd, why so worked up about it? Well, every girl wanted to dress up now and then.

"Alright, thanks. Should I spread the word?" said Giselle.

"No, it's fine. Loads of people were in the common room then, you're one of the last to know," said Lavender, seeming to panic slightly.

Giving her a nod and quelling the look that said 'I'm judging you', Giselle headed up to the common room to get changed. When she came out of her room ten minutes later, she had a white fitted tank top on, with a light blue skirt that was an inch or two above knee length in front, but extended down to her calves at the back and a thin blue jacket. The sun was just about to set.

In the common room, she was surprised to find that a first year girl was trying to reach the top of the cupboard, but without success.

"Do you need any help there?" Giselle asked.

"My cat's stuck up there and isn't coming down!" the girl wailed in distress.

"It's going to be fine. I'll levitate your cat down, alright? What's your name?" inquired Giselle, in an effort to calm the girl down.

"Lizzie," the girl whimpered.

"Okay Lizzie, I'm gonna teach you a wicked spell. You might've learned it from Flitwick, here we go. Wingardium Leviosa!"

With a surprised hiss, the cat was floating a few inches above the cabinet. Then Giselle carefully directed it down to the floor when there was a small 'pop' and the room was engulfed in darkness. She heard Lizzie's renewed wails, but before she could reach out to comfort the girl, a hand clamped onto her mouth from behind and another pair of hands pulled a blindfold over her eyes.

Then she was being carried somewhere, up a flight of stairs, and handed to another person, who sat her in front of him on a broom.

Once she registered she was in the air, her fighting stopped and she stayed still, paralysed with fear, not even daring to scream.

"Loosen up love -" came a familiar voice from behind her.

"It's just us," said a similar voice, but from her right. Well the completing of sentences was a dead giveaway.

"Fred, George, put me down or I swear I'll -"

"Oh just shut up and enjoy the ride."

And they were off, speeding towards wherever the idiots chose to take her.

Some time later, the broom she was on jerked to a stop, and Giselle was placed on what felt like a tree branch. The blindfold was removed, and Giselle realised that yes, she was on a tree branch. The twins were flanking her, and Malcolm was sitting on a branch opposite them. In the middle was a picnic mat, seemingly floating in midair, with all kinds of food displayed on it. Chocolate cake, strawberries, Yorkshire pudding... All of her favourite foods, lined up in front of her.

"So, what do you think?" asked one of the twins. Fred, I think.

"Enough to make you love us again?" asked Malcolm.

"You guys made all those random people ask me what food I like," she stated. They nodded in response.

"And told Lavender to tell me to dress up," she said in the same tone, noticing that they were also looking more refined than usual.

The boys nodded again.

"And then used the first-year's cat as a trap to kidnap me."

More nodding.

"I think I'll eat before making my decision," she announced, digging the fork in front of her into the potato skins with melted cheese.

"Look to your left and you might change your mind," said Malcolm.

Her head jerked to the left reflexively, only just realising that the branches they were on were just beside the Black Lake, with a little hole in the leaves to act as a window for a spectacular view of the sunset. The sun was sinking below the surface of the lake, going out in a blaze of gold, red and purple, painting everything - the lake, the trees, the rocks - a breathtakingly beautiful colour that could never be replicated.

When the last few tendrils of purple and red disappeared, leaving nothing but a royal blue sky and sapphire shadows, Giselle broke the silence that was still ringing in awe of the majestic sunset.

"I think I love you," she whispered, not quite ready to completely shatter the tranquility of twilight.

In any other situation, the boys would have cheered, but they went for a group hug instead. When the first cicadas started to chirp, the group continued with their meal, which was now dappled with laughter and lame jokes and puns.

"Which day of the week do bees like most?" asked Fred.

"Enlighten us," Giselle drawled.

"Fly-days!"

The other three groaned in misery.

"Fred, just stop," said Malcolm.

"Yeah, we're all Fred-up with your jokes that aren't even funny," said George, earning a new round of protests.

"I love cat puns," Giselle piped up.

"Cat puns?" George asked.

"Yeah, they're just purr-fect."

A stony silence met her attempt at a joke.

"What, not even a groan? Bloody wankers," she complained, giving Fred a small shove. She probably pushed too hard, because he overbalanced and fell out of the tree and into the lake with a surprised shout, then a huge splash. The rest of them, who were safely up in the tree, stared in surprise. George recovered the fastest, and pushed Malcolm off, who grabbed Giselle, who grabbed George, and all three of them plummeted into the chilly waters, screaming all the way.

As they emerged, spluttering and gasping, Giselle felt something grab her by the ankle.

"Oh dear Dumbledore the giant squid! It's got me! Oh god it's gonna rape me, I'll be losing my virginity to a squid, what is this! Help -"

"It's just Malcolm."

He had let go at the bit about raping, and was in hysterics behind her.

"If you're so desperate to lose your virginity, I'll be more than happy to help," he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Sod off, you tentacle."

* * *

Half an hour of splashing, swimming and water fights later, they clambered onto the small cliff beside the lake, soaking wet and cold to the bone. They returned to the base of the tree where the boys retrieved their brooms, and she sat in front of Fred on his, shivering in the cold night air.

"You cold?" he asked.

"What gave it away, the shivering or the blue lips?" she snapped.

Chucking, Fred removed his sweater and pulled it over her head, then circled an arm around her, pulling her close and letting her soak up his body heat.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks. Aren't you cold?"

"I'm a big, tough man. I can handle it."

Giselle scoffed in response, but pulled the jacket closer and snuggled her head into the crook of his neck, realising that he was really very warm.

* * *

Fred's heart turned into a gymnast, doing somersaults and cartwheels in his chest. He let himself enjoyed feeling Giselle's breath blowing softly against his neck while it lasted and the warmth of her body snug against his. He unconsciously started rubbing circles in her waist, startled when she let out a squeal and wriggled away.

"Stop that, it tickles!" she protested, swatting his hand away.

"You're ticklish?" he said, bemused.

"Yes, now stop that. You're too comfy," she said, snuggling against his chest and resting her head in the same position. Fred laughed gently, turning his head to place a light kiss on her wet hair.

"What?" she mumbled sleepily.

"You're too cute," he whispered. She murmured a small sound as her muscles relaxed and her breathing became slow and steady.

Too soon for his liking, they had arrived outside her window, and he had the job of waking her up. He shook her shoulder gently, but she just mumbled something incoherent and snuggled her head deeper against his neck. He tried shaking her up again, but with the same results. With a flash of inspiration, he jabbed her playfully in her side, resulting in a painful collision of his jaw and her head.

She glared blearily up at him before realising she was outside her room.

"I guess I should go now," she whispered. She looked a little sad, so Fred scooped her into a hug. She made a small sigh of contentment and lazily wrapped her arms around his waist, making his heart go on overdrive again. Not that she needed to know that.

"Yeah, you should," he mumbled against her hair.

With a sigh, she disentangled herself from him and made a move to the window, but he placed his hand over hers.

"Have I told you that you look amazing?" Fred said playfully, but still with complete sincerity.

"So you go for the dripping wet and bedraggled style, do you?" Giselle quipped back, deflecting the compliment. It was obvious she wasn't comfortable with it, as flattered as she was. A sudden, irrational panic gripped him at her awkwardness. Most girls craved flattery, but not her. Not from him at least.

"We're friends, aren't we?" he asked. The answer should have been obvious, but one could never tell when Giselle was involved. She was so predictable, yet so unpredictable.

"Course we are. I said I love you, didn't I?"

He smiled at her and helped to open the window, then supported her as she climbed in. It didn't matter that she meant the words "I love you" platonically, it still made his heart flop erratically.

"Night," he said, smiling at her, ignoring the excited squeals of her roommates.

"Sweet dreams," she replied, looking at the noisemakers and rolling her eyes at them.

Fred grinned in reply. She had said the same thing when she agreed to give him a chance. Did that mean he still had it? Still, the importance of the phrase was like their personal secret. He liked it.

* * *

**A/N: Hello my lovelies! The Maestro is back :D I have a teacher in school that calls the person who clicks PowerPoint slides Maestro. And he's British. Now say that with a British accent. Bri-ish. Hehe ^^ yes, I am weird.**

**So, this is the longest chapter I have ever wri-en, and I am just so proud of myself. Now I'm reading this in an Australian accent. Wonderful. Speaking of Autralians, who here loves Hugh Jackman? Huh? Okay yes I just watched Les Mis and IT IS GOOD DAMN IT. I'M HUMMING THE BLOODY SONGS IN CLASS.**

**same old drill, review, review and did I mention? REVIEW. it wouldn't hurt to favourite and follow, but REVIEW YOU COMPUTERS. REVIEW. THE MAESTRO DEMANDS IT.**

**Oh and by the way, I've got the next chapter done. This was done long ago, but I kinda forgot about it. So, I am using it to my advantage. I AIN'T GIVING YOU THE NEXT CHAPTER TILL YOU LOT GIVE ME AT LEAST FOUR REVIEWS. THANK YOU.**


	16. Dropping in on Dumbledore

Life in Hogwarts stabilised quite a bit for Giselle, every day following the same routine for about a month. Wake up, school, homework, an occasional detention, then to sleep. Only to repeat the next day.

Not that life was boring - not by a long shot. Harry, Ron and Hermione seemed to be constantly up to something, Harry always getting in trouble with Umbridge one way or another. Then Angelina would get riled up over him missing practices, making a scene at breakfast or in the common room.

Harry had also started up a club of sorts called Dumbledore's Army, or the DA. They practiced defensive spells every week in the Room of Requirement, which was found thanks to Neville, the wonderful bloke. Giselle found that she was actually quite good at the Shield Charm, when they tried it out last time. It was thrilling, to see herself and her friends do all sorts of hexes, spells and jinxes, and improve every time. It made her feel like they might actually be able to take on Voldemort, if they had to.

As for Fred and George, what was there to be said of Fred and George? The only time they wouldn't be getting into trouble would be, well, never. Those two would come back to join Peeves after they died.

"What do you think you're doing, little miss?" a head of flaming red hair somehow wormed its way under Giselle's arm and into her lap, revealing a beaming, evil face.

"Studying, Fred, you should try it sometime," said Giselle.

"Blasphemy! What is this 'studying' you speak of?" his doppelgänger said, popping up at her left shoulder. "Besides, he's not Fred, I am!"

"Tell that to someone who's dim enough to be fooled, Georgie-boy," she mumbled almost incoherently, eyes never drifting from her parchment.

"Don't even try, boys. She's one of the brightest kids back home," said a voice from above her head, accompanied by a dead weight that almost slammed her face into her inkwell.

Oh, yes. They recruited Malcolm into their little gang. Devilish minds are painfully rare these days, they said. Devilish minds must band together, they said. Now those devilish minds would send her to the devil in frustration.

"Come on, Gis! Come with us, have some fun!" said Fred, snatching the quill out of her hand and scratching a huge line over her essay.

"Hey, give that back!" she protested, reaching up and swatting him angrily, unwittingly putting herself in a position where they could grab her and run.

Before she could comprehend what was happening, she was lifted out of her chair and flung over a shoulder, then marched down to the kitchens after hours where she screamed at them for killing her homework concentration mode, then be placated by food not much later.

* * *

After this happened about twenty times, one would think Giselle would soon start to study in the library, but it was only when she raised her bemused frustration to Adora that she thought of it. Well, Adora thought of it.

"They keep catching me just when I'm dead to everything but the words in front of me! How the bloody hell am I supposed to avoid them if I don't see them?"

"Ever thought of going to the library, you dimwit?"

"Oh."

And so, she spent her time after school in the library with Adora, finishing the piles of homework assigned to them. Thankfully, the boys thought that going to the library, with it's quiet inhabitants and organised bookshelves, was a fate worse than Hell, which meant interruption free studying.

* * *

The boys still made sure their female friends' lives didn't revolve around studying, which was why Giselle and Adora would be found flying with them, or wandering into the Forbidden Forest to sneak a peek at the centaurs, who didn't like them much. The gang even got chased out with arrows and hooves flying close behind.

"We are never doing that again," said Giselle, the same time Malcolm exclaimed "We have got to do that again!"

"What, are you bloody mental?" Adora and George screamed at the same time.

"You're the mental ones!" Giselle and Fred shouted in reply.

They were sighted laughing hysterically and waving arrows half an hour later while going down to the kitchens for supper, or as the twins called it, 'post traumatic stress treatment'.

"You're such a pig, Giselle!" Adora laughed, poking her friend in the stomach. Giselle squealed and swatted her hand away while shifting her waist away.

"Ooh, is she ticklish?" George asked evilly.

"No!" Giselle shouted in a panic. Adora opened her mouth to contradict the statement, but was stopped by Giselle lunging at her and attempting to clamp a hand over her mouth.

"She's the - hey! Most ticklish - that was my foot! Person I've - stop that! Ever known! Ha!"

"If you touch me I swear I will scream bloody murder."

"How very interesting," said a grinning Malcolm, appearing in front of her.

"We would love - " a maniacal redhead said.

"To see your reaction," his equally unstable twin finished. The three boys closed in on her slowly and menacingly, a wall blocking her escape from behind.

Giselle backed away slowly, analysing her surroundings. Her only defence against them would be her size and flexibility. She wasn't tiny, not by Asian standard at least, but wasn't huge either. And she could contort herself pretty well. A little hole would be good. Very good. There were no holes.

_Why aren't there any holes? Bloody hell I can't even - _

_Are you a witch or what?_

_What? Oh yeah, I could blast a -_

_Just take them with a spell, you dimwit!_

_Right. Then I'll do the hole._

_Just blast them and run!_

_Fine! Geez, I'm so pushy._

She whipped out her wand and cast a Leg-Locker on the nearest human, then took off at a sprint down the halls, firing random spells blindly over her shoulder. Rounding her third corridor, her footsteps started to slow, her legs going numb and her lungs burning.

A flight of stairs appeared in front of her, causing her to grab the railing and pivot herself ninety degrees around, stepping onto the first step and flying up two at a time. She ran past an empty corridor, decorated without anything more than a few torch brackets. No classrooms, no paintings, just a wall.

_Thats weird. Who cares._ _Need a hole, need a hole, need a hole._

A slight bout of dizziness washed over her, causing her to veer a little to the left, almost hitting the empty wall. Her shoulder banged lightly against the wall, and as she shoved her forearm against it to push away, she realised that the stone had crumbled slightly under the force of her blow. The thought of ignoring it crossed her mind, but there weren't any footsteps nearby.

_Maybe the staircase decided to change. _

Not three seconds later, she had backtracked to stand in front on the wall, pressing against it with her palm. Nothing. She tried prying away the stones loose, but they stayed stuck firm. Finally, she took a few steps back and pressed her foot experimentally to the general area which had crumbled off. Then she steadied herself and aimed a shark kick at the wall, which literally melted beneath her foot, revealing a nice little hole for her to crawl into.

_Odd. _

_This is a magic school. Nothing should surprise you._

_True that._

She hoisted herself up and crawled in, twisting her body back and forth a little to fit properly. When she finally settled and got comfortable - as comfortable as one could get in a hole, at least - the wall magically un-melted, spreading across the opening just in front of her feet.

_School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Nothing should surprise you._

Then the wall underneath her gave way and she felt herself free falling, the world (and hair, should've tied it up) spinning around her. The air returned to her lungs, and she screamed. Not a second later, she registered a change in the colour scheme. It was warmer, more golds and yellows and browns, instead of the grey walls. Then she jerked to a stop in midair, the air escaping her throat and lungs in a whoosh.

Her senses soon returned to her, and she found herself surveying the strange room. It circular, with curved bookshelves lining part of the wall and portraits of old but dignified-looking people hanging on the opposite side. There was a large golden stand with a magnificent bird in it. It had red and gold feathers, flowing down in a beautiful tail. Tall, elegant and regal, it exuded a sort of wisdom and grandeur. A Phoenix. A bloody Phoenix.

Next to it was a large desk, every bit as grand and royal as the Phoenix. A man was sitting behind it, smiling at her with twinkling blue eyes and his long fingers clasped together on the desk.

Giselle then realised that she was still stuck in midair.

"Er, Professor..." she stammered, not quite knowing what to say.

"Oh yes, I almost forgot. My apologies, Miss Chia," he said, flicking his wand at her. The invisible force holding her up suddenly vanished, and she fell spread-eagled onto the floor. Not a moment later, a distant scream that was getting louder by the moment alerted her to the presence of another person free falling. And there was no doubt in her mind she would get crushed. Just as she was about to scramble away, a dead weight hit her square on the back, knocking the breath out of her for the second time that day.

* * *

"Ah, Miss Chen. How nice of you to... drop in," said Dumbledore. His eyes were twinkling merrily, as always. Adora felt Giselle attempt to snort at the lame pun, but end up choking.

"Get off me, you fat arse," she groaned.

"Actually, it's rather comfortable here," Adora replied with a smirk she knew Giselle wouldn't see. Still, it felt nice to smirk. She adjusted her position so that she was sitting on her friend's upper back, where her chest area was.

"You're squashing my boobs, get the hell off!"

"You don't have boobs for anyone to squash, Little Miss Kardashian."

Sadly, Dumbledore intervened.

"Miss Chen, I think it would be best if you refrain from oppressing Miss Chia's... ah... Chest area," he said, with laughter in his voice and eyes.

Adora reluctantly ceased her mutilation of Giselle's bosom and stood up, allowing her friend to do the same.

"You monster," she wailed theatrically, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. Adora had no doubt in her mind that, if Dumbledore wasn't in the room, Giselle would be hugging her breasts and crooning to them.

_Note to self: never squash her boobs when there isn't a teacher around._

"Oh stop being such a drama queen," Adora scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"You stop being such a stuck-up perv. Who squashes another girl's boobs?"

"Obviously, someone who doesn't like those boobs."

"So you've been looking at my boobs, then?"

Just like that, they started bickering. Giselle teasing, Adora defending, both of them close to laughter.

They didn't notice the distant yelling, or the soft thump a body made on the carpet until the new arrival spoke.

"Why are we talking about Giselle's boobs?" Malcolm shouted over the din.

"BECAUSE THEY'RE FREAKING AWESOME," Giselle screamed back, not registering who he was.

"NO, THEY'RE NON EXISTENT, RIGHT MALCOLM?" Adora yelled in protest.

"What? I - er - they're... Yeah?" he said cautiously, not understanding what was going on.

"So you've been looking at my boobs?" Giselle questioned.

"What? No!" he shouted, a look of horror crossing his face. Giselle, of course, didn't listen. She never really did.

"See Dora! Guys have been looking! That means I've got perfectly respectable boobs, thank you very much!"

Another round of bickering, this time between the three of them, started up again.

"Children!" Dumbledore boomed. "I have come to discuss matter of your education, not Miss Chia's breasts. No, I am not answering any questions about them."

Giselle and Adora closed their mouths disappointedly.

"You are due back in your muggle school in just a little more than a month, Miss Chia, and you two," he said, looking at Adora and Malcolm, "were due a month and a half ago. We cannot let you simply go back without finishing your education here, but there is a way to have both at the same time. Would you like to?

There was a pause, then both Malcolm and Adora shouted "hell no!" at the same time.

"I am not going back to Math, thank you very much." Malcolm said, suppressing a shudder. Adora nodded in assent, but Giselle stayed silent and thoughtful.

"I think... I think I would like to continue," she said. Outraged shouts rang out once she finished her sentence.

"Are you bloody mental?"

"It's gonna be hell back there!"

"Are you sure you want to go back to algebra?"

"What is wrong with you?!"

"GUYS! SHUT IT!" she screamed. And they did. "I'm going back because I did **not **slog my arse off for eleven years just to give it up before I've gotten **at least** an A level certificate."

"But - "

"SHUT IT!"

"You are dismissed!" Dumbledore shouted. The three teens filed out silently, but just before the door closed behind then, he heard a shout of "what the hell were you thinking!" then a smack.

* * *

After the heavy door was shut and locked, he turned to the fireplace and said, to seemingly empty air, "you can come out now."

A small wood thrush flew down to the floor from a small crevice in the side of the fireplace and materialised into a lady in her mid twenties.

"I was hoping she wouldn't," the lady said, sighing. "It's very stressful. I hope she isn't biting off more than she can chew."

"Which is why you, as someone who has done this before, must support her," said Dumbledore. "She has made the right choice. She needs protection. Being able to flit back and forth between two countries, one that is almost out of Voldemort's reach, is a great asset."

"You really think Voldemort will try to find her?" the lady asked, chewing on the inside of her cheeks and lips like Giselle did.

"I have instructed someone to tell him about her."

"Why?"

"So that he knows she is special. So that he will not kill her. It is imperative that she does not die."

"She will be living like a tool to be used at your disposal. She will be living only to be used," the lady said, with barely concealed anger.

"That is not what I meant," Dumbledore said, the playful twinkle in his darkening.

The two shared a moment of tense silence, before the lady checked her watch.

"It is late," she said. "I have an appointment."

"With that muggle?"

"Yes."

"He will be in danger. In these times, it is better to be with a wizard."

The lady didn't answer. Instead, she turned and took a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace, shouting the address of the Floo spot that was across the Indian Ocean, in another continent.

* * *

**A/N: hello humans! How many millennia has passed since I last awoke? Okay enough lame jokes. Who hates school, because bloody hell it's killing me. The only thing I like is Macbeth. "Bubble, bubble toil and trouble!" Why don't people like the witches? They're like, the most awesome characters in the play. Anywho, tell me what you think okayy, because I'm pretty damn sure I lost it after the exams.**


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